A Yami no Matsuei Fairy Tale
by Sakura no Miko
Summary: My take on "Sleeping Beauty"...Yami no Matsuei style! TatsumiTsuzuki, with both darkness and fluff. (Yes, more chapters are coming...someday)
1. Part 1

Yami no Matsuei fairy tale

By Sakura no Miko

Summary: This is an odd little idea that popped into my head. It's somewhat of a "Sleeping Beauty" tale…with Yami no Matsuei characters. 

Disclaimer: Anyone who thinks I own Yami no Matsuei, or would make a profit off of it, needs to see a doctor. Quickly.

Warnings: This is a dark little fairy tale, dealing with suicide and bad childhoods and all that great stuff. Somehow, this darkness is later invaded by fluff. I'm not entirely sure how the fluff snuck in, but it won't get out. Help, please…

Oh, and, of course there's shounen ai/yaoi/'hot guys doing hot things to each other,' of the Tatsumi/Tsuzuki variety. And if that's not clear enough to you, I know a great optometrist…

**Big note:** Thanks to emi-chan and Literary Eagle, who pointed out that I've been saying "Terazuma" when I meant Wakaba. I've only seen the anime. ^_^() So if anything else comes up, feel free to say something and I'll change it!

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Long ago, in a beautiful land of mountain and forest, a handsome and just King lived in peace and prosperity, his beautiful Queen by his side. The people loved them, and they loved their people. It was a perfect life, for this kingdom, miraculously, escaped the wars destroying the countries that lived beyond it.

There was only one thing anyone could want. 

The King and Queen, no matter what they did, could produce no heir. Certainly, there were many who could rule the kingdom after their deaths—many of just and kind minds, of cunning and strength—but still, the King and Queen longed for a child of their own. It wasn't a matter of passing on the kingdom anymore, just a simple wish to have a child to love and cherish. Every doctor, every herb, every philosopher and old maid was summoned to the kingdom, offered riches beyond imagining—if only they could bless the kingdom with a little prince or princess.

Finally, the day came to pass when the Queen found herself heavy with child, and the entire kingdom rejoiced. The days passed, each morning sweeter and brighter with the ever-coming day of the birth.

When the day came, though…amid storms and darkness…the labor was hard. It was feared that both the Queen and the child would perish, so great was her pain…

So feared, indeed, that any means of saving them was considered. The King, against his better judgment, summoned, from the high mountain kingdoms, a doctor of great renown—and great infamy. The doctor was said to be able to cure any ailment, save any life, and all for nothing in return. But strange stories surfaced around him. Tales of a blood red moon…the mysterious deaths of those close to those he helped…and the strange chill that captured the hearts of all who looked upon him. He was said to practice the blackest arts, and, perhaps, to be the Devil himself.

He came, without pomp or grandeur, to the kingdom, where the very earth itself seemed to cry out against his presence. The sky darkened, and the creatures of the forest scattered. Silently, the man made his way to the castle, paying no heed to the cried of banishments laid on him by the superstitious people of the kingdom.

The next morning, the heralds brought forth a joyous message: "Hark, people of our beloved kingdom! Our Queen is saved, and has birthed a beautiful boy-child! Our prince is born! Let no expense be spared in celebration!"

So it had happened that the doctor, Muraki by name, had worked some craft upon mother or child, saving them from death. And such a beautiful child! He resembled his father in every way, from his chocolate brown curls (the few that were yet on his head, that is) to the small, soft pink lips that formed a sweet infant smile. His eyes, though, were his mother's—violet as the wildflowers, and shaped like almonds. 

A great party was planned to celebrate the birth and naming of the child, as was the custom of this kingdom. Everyone, in every land, was invited, so long as they respected the celebration with peace and dignity.

***

The morning of the celebration arrived, and the Queen, still filled with much joy, gently picked up the wriggling child from his crib. "Ah, my little one," she said, smiling brightly, "we shall give you your name today, so that all the kingdoms may know the prince whom we so love here."

The King walked into the room, his own face lighting up at the beautiful sight before him. "My darling son," said he, "may you receive every blessing these great people may bestow upon you, and be worthy of every single one."

The celebration was vast and joyful. The child lay smiling in his mother's arms, making soft, happy noises, unlike most children of his age, who would have cried at the spectacle.

As the day wore on, many gifts were given to the young prince—delicate sweetmeats and fine wines, gold and beautifully crafted jewels, books, clothes of silk and satin, and anything else a soul might wish for. Night fell slowly, but surely, and, finally, the very last guests made their way to the King and Queen.

They were unexpected, though certainly welcome guests, known in this time as the Three Shinigami, a group of powerful—though mysterious—members of the spirit-folk.

"We have some gifts for the little cutie too!" said the first, a rather energetic girl known as Wakaba.

"Remember, nothing too…innovative," the second said in a calm, even voice. His bright green eyes narrowed as he looked at the other two. "Think before you give the child anything."

"Bon, you know we wouldn't do anything bad!" the third protested, his long hair bouncing as he shook his head.

"Yeah!" Wakaba chimed in. "You're too much of a scaredy-cat, Hisoka!"

The eyes narrowed more, and the room suddenly seemed much quieter. Glaring, Hisoka said, quite clearly, "Wakaba, you are not allowed to give any of your clothes, jewels, or 'make-overs'! And you, Watari,"—he spun towards the other male, glaring daggers—"don't even think about suggesting that the prince might make a better _princess_!"

The man replied indignantly, "Bo~~~~n! You know I'm nowhere near finished with _that_!"

Wakaba pouted, then turned to the King and Queen. They were, to be sure, somewhat hesitant, but still polite. "I'll grant your little boy the handsomest looks in all the lands!" she said, tapping the baby on the forehead with a ribbon. "No one who sees him will be able to hate him, or wish him ill-will."

Hisoka stopped, mid glare, and stared at the girl, who beamed back. 'That was…pretty good,' he thought, mildly shocked. 

"And I," Watari said dramatically, "will give the prince a bright personality. He'll always be smiling and cheerful for you."

Hisoka cocked an eyebrow. Neither of them had done anything strange yet…

"Oh, and I'll give him a good sweet tooth, too," Watari added. "unlike _some_ people. I think he'll be happier with that, anyway." The babe giggled as Wakaba teased him with her ribbon, trying to grab the soft material with his small fingers.

Hisoka coughed. His turn. Now that he thought about it…what could he give? "I…" he began to say when a scream suddenly rang out.

One of the noblewomen, a particularly lovely young girl, lay on the floor in a pool of blood. "So you thought you'd ignore me," a cool voice said. "You thought you'd leave out the person who saved the life of the child?"

Clad in white, now stained a vicious red, Muraki parted the crowd, glaring haughtily at the royal couple, and the child nestled between them. 

The shinigami looked at each other. "Muraki!" Hisoka cried finally, breaking the silence. "What are you doing here?" His voice was cold, and even the King and Queen shivered. 

"I'm here to give my gift to the child," he said smoothly. "I seem to have lost the invitation, though. Such a pity." He smiled coldly, and moved towards the infant. His expression darkened. "This child has no soul," he said, smiling sweetly at the King and Queen. "He is nothing but a lifeless doll."

"Foul beast!" the Queen cried, striking Muraki across the face. A small line of blood flowed down his cheek.

"Do not fear, fair Queen," Muraki said softly. "Your prince will not have long to stay this way. Before his youth is over, a close hand will kill him." He smiled again. "Farewell."

Blackness flooded the building, and when it cleared, the evil doctor was gone.

The Queen fell to the floor, sobbing. "Asato!"—for this was the child's name—"My child!"

Hisoka pursed his lips. "Fear not, dear Queen," he said softly, placing a hand gently to her face. A soft shudder went through him, unnoticed by all but the other shinigami. "I…I may not be able to reverse what Muraki has done, but I may be able to soften the end." No one noticed the soft tremble in his voice as he said the doctor's name. Hisoka went over to the cradle, looking down at the child, who now lay very still, his eyes almost lifeless. He touched the small forehead, his eyes widening, then turned to the King, who looked worriedly, but with more sense than his wife, at the young shinigami. "My gift will stop his life before death. He will instead enter a long and deep sleep. I do not know if he will awaken, or how to do so…but there will be, at least, some chance for you to see your son again." He bowed his head. "Muraki is powerful," he murmured, "More powerful than I am."

And so this day of celebration ended in tragedy…

Not a day later, the King and Queen emerged from the castle to proclaim new law. Any person, they declared, who so much as touched their son would face death. The people, in their simplicity, instantly agreed that this would be the best course of action, and, in their love for their prince, vowed to hold this law above all others. No one would touch their prince. No one.

***

The problem of this, as will be made evident later, was that the poor prince now grew up untouched. He was given a beautiful room in the highest tower of the castle, away from the world. The room was purist white, lined with lovely, bejeweled windows that allowed a person to see the entire countryside. Fresh, pale flowers were brought in every day. Only an elite few were able to serve the prince in this place, and even they were very cautious, always so scared of hurting the boy.

And yet…it is true that love can bring about greater tragedy than anything else.

One night, many days after the edict, the Queen awoke in the middle of the night. She could hear her baby, her Asato, crying, though he lay in a room far from hers. Her heart ached, and she made her way to the beautiful tower, which gleamed like ivory and diamond in the black night. She took the child against her bosom, comforting the sobbing, lonely boy. How long since she had held her son, for fear of his death… The words still rang clear in her mind, sweet as honey, yet cruel as poison: "Before his youth is over, a close hand will kill him."

In her distressed state, she didn't notice that the child had already fallen back asleep. Suddenly, though, she realized that it was quiet, and the boy no longer stirred fretfully. For a brief, agonizing instant, she thought the words true, that her son lay dead in her arms! Terrified, she pushed him back into his crib, realizing, much later, that he was only sleeping, as young children are wont to do, as still as death.

But the fear still gripped her. What if…what…what had she done! The Queen cried out in agony at the thought that she, doing only what any mother yearned to do, had endangered her son's life. This time, he had not died. But what about the next time? "A close hand…" What hand lay closer than a mother's? And her child, wakened by the cries, began to sob as well.

By daybreak, the cries had awakened many, and finally, the King himself went up to the tower, finding his wife cowering, and his child sobbing. Reaching for the child, a shrill cry came: "Stop! You fool, would you kill our child?"

The King stopped in his tracks. Like the Queen, the full implications of the curse had not yet entered his mind. "'A close hand will kill him,'" the King whispered. Who was the truly cursed…the child or them?

As he stood motionless, the Queen, with a strange, shiny look in her eyes, got up to open the window. "I…can't do this…" she whispered. "I can't live my life like this, never able to touch my baby again…" Before anyone could do anything, she was up on the ledge. "I would die before I let anyone hurt him…even myself…" were her last words. 

The castle lay in mourning for their beautiful Queen for weeks.

***

As such things often happen, the King died not soon after that, the pain of a heart twice broken finally ending his life.

And, as such things often happen, the kingdom decided to do everything they could to save the child. Only one person was sent to the tower a day, now, and the person was changed every day. If there were no one close to the child, and no one to touch him, he could never die. Never once did they wonder, never once did they ask, what of the child's welfare?

He always smiled, so they thought nothing was wrong. So few remembered the gift given on the day of celebration by the shinigami. It had not been meant to be used this way, but no one could have foreseen such an end.  

Asato Tsuzuki, the beautiful prince shut up too soon in a sepulcher of whiteness, was truly lonely. He knew not the warmth or touch of another, only the coldness of silken sheets, the hollow warmth of the fire. He knew that people feared him, feared his touch, though he knew not why. And though every part of him craved nothing but that which he could never have, he tried to be cheerful, tried to smile like the children he saw playing in the courtyard. His pain was known to no one; for he was still alive, and that was the only truth the people could see.

Their plan had worked.

For, as the years passed, the prince lay in his tower, living, though only in body, and had now reached his nineteenth year, the last year of his youth. Soon, the people rejoiced, the curse would be broken. If only, they wept in secret, if only the King and Queen could see their son.

He was beautiful, said the few who could see him. Paler than a lotus, with his mother's amethyst eyes. His hair shone in the sunlight, the brown of a strong tree, and his voice…so exquisite, like the notes of the harpsichord. He smiled whenever they saw him, gentle and shy, like the virgin maidens on their wedding days. Always, he had that expression on his face, almost…

But none dared say it, for, if nothing else, those words were remembered. "This child has no soul," said the doctor who saved him. "He is nothing but a lifeless doll."

None dared say that…Tsuzuki was truly a living, breathing doll, who never did anything but smile…

***

On the bright morn of Tsuzuki's nineteenth birthday, he was greeted by a vase of pale white lilies. Every day, some new flower was brought to him. He never said anything, but they died so quickly. It was so sad, that they were so beautiful and had to die so soon.

He looked in the vase, seeing his own reflection. He didn't know what to think of his own appearance, having little to compare it against. A chill breeze blew through his window, and he pulled his long, pale arms around his shoulders, shivering. He craved the warmth of the fire, but didn't know how to start one himself. He wanted to just…lay in the fire all the time, in that sweet, sweet warmth. One day he had plunged his hand into the fire, trying to warm it, and cried out in pain. His hand…it hurt! Why, he wondered, why did the warmth he crave hurt so? But…before his eyes…the redness, the blisters, the pain vanished! 

It was a secret he'd kept well as a child. He tried it again, and again, each time hurting less and less, and healing faster. Then he'd place his other hand in the fire, the agonizing pain of one hand, and the deadness of the other, sending a strange thrill through him. It hurt…yes…but it was so warm…

Again, he stared into his reflection, letting his eyes drift over his features. Meaningless. Without thinking, he pushed the vase over, and it broke into pieces. He stared dumbly at the shattered vase, the scattered flowers. 

The wind whistled in his ears, and he picked up a piece of the vase, crying in pain as he picked himself on a sharp edge. Red. He had never seen red before, only white. The red fell onto the flowers, changing them. Red, red…not white anymore. He pricked himself again, watching the strange color fall, again and again. It didn't hurt so much now. 

The wind whistled, whispered senselessly into his ear. More red, he thought suddenly. More…but how? The wind whistled again, but he thought he could hear something now. Something soft, sweet…a voice. 

He felt numb, cold. Something cold was wrapped around him, but he knew not what, couldn't escape. The voice, louder and louder, demanding more of the red. With a violence he never felt before, Tsuzuki slashed his left wrist with the shard, laying all the room to red. He fell back, into the coldness, the darkness. And the last thing he knew was a pair of pale lips, whispering, "My doll, my beautiful doll, you've done everything perfectly."

***

The screams rang throughout the castle when, that night, a servant found their prince, dead by his own hand. No, not dead, they soon realized, but sleeping, sleeping as close to death as possible. So had Muraki's curse come to be fulfilled—by the closest hand the prince ever knew.

***

Tsuzuki was arrayed in soft, white robes, as would be a dead man, and laid to sleep in his tower. The tower lay locked and deserted for many years. By chance, tales of the sleeping prince began to stir, and many began to journey to see him. Princes and princesses, knights and adventurers—all sought to wake the prince. The tale eventually reached the ears of the three shinigami, and they came, with all haste, to the kingdom. The people had fought valiantly to keep their prince safe from the many unsavory types who came to wake him, but it was of no avail. 

The shinigami quickly formed a plan. The few people left in the kingdom—which had, unfortunately, dwindled as the years passed—agreed that they would do anything for their prince. At the advice of the shinigami, they, finally, left to other lands, leaving the castle deserted. The shinigami then worked to hide the castle, and the tower, until someone worthy of the prince should come along. Large, beautiful trees and vines covered the castle, making it look as if it has been deserted for ages. Inside the castle, ever-blooming cherry trees created an endless maze of wood and blossom, that none could ever escape without the shinigami's permission.

The years passed, and soon nearly everyone had given up on trying to find the prince. Rumor became legend, and soon, not even a foolish soul dared to come near the castle.

As so Prince Tsuzuki slept on…

***

As it happened, many more years passed before another came to try his hand at waking the prince. Yet…this man, beloved in his kingdom and loyal to the Count who ruled there, wasn't really concerned with the sleeping prince.

Rumor had come, and gone, of the beautiful prince no one could save. Only then had the ruler, a mysterious Count who was, nonetheless, revered by the people, called forth his greatest advisor, a man of intelligence, strength, and the mysterious ability to make others obey him without a thought. 

This man, given the most important job of watching over all the comings and goings of the kingdom, had been sent, quite against his will, to see if the rumors were true. 

He was quite handsome, in his own way. While he didn't possess the rare, unearthly beauty of Prince Tsuzuki, nor the mysterious ethereality of the shinigami, Tatsumi was, by human standards, extraordinarily handsome. By blood, he was only a commoner, but no one possessed the sheer strength of will Tatsumi did. For that reason, the Count sent his most prized employee to the distant land of eternal cherry blossoms, seeking the treasure that so many men had died for.

After many days of traveling, Tatsumi had reached the mysterious castle. He stood at the gate, noting many things to himself—the relative area, the time it would take to search the area, and all the expenses that might be incurred while searching the area. He didn't think much of this "sleeping prince"—if he truly existed. He must have been terribly lazy to sleep for so many years straight. What could the Count possibly want with such an inefficient worker? 

He shook his head, allowing himself a soft sigh. What was he doing here, really?

"Have you come to see Prince Tsuzuki?" The voice was jarring. Tatsumi turned to see a young, blonde-haired boy, standing next to him and staring into the castle. The boy looked at him, expressionless. "It's dangerous to be here," he said simply.

"Danger is only being unprepared for the outcome of a decision," Tatsumi replied coolly, adjusting his glasses ever so slightly.

The boy extended his hand, and Tatsumi, narrowing his eyes almost imperceptibly, shook it. The boy winced, and pulled away. He looked up; his green eyes were a bit hazy. "You have a good heart," he murmured, "unclouded by power, pride, or lust." His eyes traveled over the taller man again. "Why are you here?"

"The Count of Meifu sent me to find out if these persistent rumors about the lord of this castle are true."

"They are," the boy replied evenly, never taking his eyes off of Tatsumi. 

Tatsumi didn't move. The boy tried again. "You have your answer. Why are you still here?"

"Because the rumors are true," Tatsumi replied, infuriatingly calm. He said nothing more, but looked back to the castle. Wait. The trees were…

The boy was gone, and so was the thick foliage that had, for all these years, blocked men and women alike from the fair prince. We realize, of course, that the boy could have been none other than Hisoka, the leader of the Three Shinigami; but Tatsumi, knowing nothing of the past events, accepted that he was, apparently, being invited into the castle.

He entered the courtyard cautiously, and worked his way farther inside.

Tatsumi was nearly gone before he heard Hisoka's last words: "Please…let him save Tsuzuki…"

***

The castle was, as most were in those days, terribly big. Tatsumi stood motionless for a while, trying to think of where the prince might be. Certainly, not in the servant's quarters, nor the kitchens, nor the barns. Those were too obvious. 

He, uncharacteristically, ran a hand through his fine brown hair, and blinked with his sharp blue eyes, He was, as noted above, exceptionally handsome. His hair fell gently to the sides of his face, framing the lovely, high cheekbones, full lips, and slender, curved blue eyes that all combined into one lovely, balanced visage. He was discernibly older than most of the people in this story, but that only means he'd had more years to grow handsome. Nonetheless, Tatsumi was the loveliest man to step foot in the desolate castle for many years, and, doubtlessly, the denizens of the kingdom would have been overjoyed to know that their prince's savior was every bit as lovely to look upon as the prince himself. 

A chill breeze suddenly blew across Tatsumi's face. Many things that had once been kept out of the castle were now free to enter again, wanted or not. The castle had, for much of the past years, remained unchanged, as had the prince that slept within. No, 'unchanged' is not the right way to say it. Everything had…slowed, somehow. The prince himself had gained the appearance of a few years' age, but not nearly as many as he had slept. It was certainly good fortune, for who would want to save a prince who showed the age of the many decades that had passed? No, a fair prince, though not quite as youthful as he had been awake, was preferable to a prince who showed a fine white beard and a wrinkled face. 

Tatsumi, still, knew nothing of this. Somehow, though, a strange feeling had begun to rise in him, and it quickened as an unconscious shiver wracked his frame. He _wanted_. He, who had lived his life to serve others, was now in the throes of a powerful curiosity, and he yearned to quench it. Another breeze, like gentle ice, flew over him. The thought crossed his mind that, in such a fine summer as this, no such winds should exist.  

There is, of course, one last thing to know about Tatsumi. In these days, occasionally, very odd things would happen. The spirit folk, of course, possessed powers far beyond humans, but every once in a while, a human child would be born with powers that equaled, if not surpasses, even the spirits. It wasn't just those of mixed blood, but, well...random people, it seemed. Prince Tsuzuki, as one may have guessed, was one of these people, gifted with the rare ability to heal his wounds almost instantly. Generally, such people were not well known, for such things were kept secret, never revealed until death or worse. 

Tatsumi possessed, to a certain extent, powers that set him apart. Then again, his entire demeanor was better than any power, and far less suspicious. For this reason, he rarely, if ever, even thought about his abilities. Yet, with the advent of this strange—shall we say, _unnatural_—wind, Tatsumi slowly, carefully, readied himself to face the forewarned danger of the castle.

He moved, easily, towards a darker corner of the courtyard, under the guise of inspecting the areas harder to see with eyes alone. It was deathly quiet, aside from the whistling winds that seemed, suddenly, to be coming in larger and more powerful bursts. The shadows flickered around him, and he reflexively moved farther back.

"Already backed into a corner?" came a voice that seemed, in some odd way, to glide upon the wind. "But I do thank you," the voice said again. "Those lovely trees have been unattended for so long…"

Chill fingers slid along Tatsumi's shoulder, but he stood straight and unwavering. "I don't believe we have been properly introduced," he murmured, glancing behind him. Nothing. "It is rude to be so familiar without introducing yourself," he tried again, glancing ahead. "And I fear…" Nothing to the right. So…that meant…

"Ah, but we have met, have we not?" 

Left! Tatsumi thought hurriedly, sending a wave of blackness towards the voice. When the shadows cleared, there was nothing…but the ringing laughter of the voice.

"Muraki," Tatsumi said softly, but evenly. "It _has_ been a long time."

"Little Seiichirou…all grown up, I see. You, of all people, I did not expect." He was, suddenly, behind Tatsumi, one slender eye blissfully shut, the other covered with a patch of silver hair. "A shadow master…I can't imagine anything more appropriate."

Tatsumi smiled ruefully, then shook his head. He turned slowly, finally eye to eye with Muraki, who seemed, for the moment, completely unaware of his presence. The old doctor stood, dream-like, before slowly opening his eyes. "They'd said you were dead," Tatsumi smiled, "but now that I think about it, who would be more likely to have orchestrated this charade?" He shook his head. "You are the one that did this—put the prince is his never-ending sleep."

"So cold…" Muraki reached out a hand, tracing the younger man's cheek. "Surely… surely you have forgotten about _that_, haven't you?"

"That you murdered my companions?" Tatsumi said. His voice was low, dangerous. "That you set a fire rivaling Tohda's to their homes in the dark of night, under the bloody moon?" He pulled back, leaving Muraki's hand floating in space, an unwelcome invitation. "No, Muraki, I hadn't thought of those days at all."

"Vengeance is a dangerous emotion," Muraki said, his smile fading. He shook his head. "Such a pity, though. Dying for a _doll_…but, then again," he at Tatsumi steadily, a soft red glow emitting from his obscured eye, "you always did attach yourself to the silliest things."

Tatsumi thrust out his hand, a black cloud gathering at his fingertips. Muraki chuckled. "Your illusions are useless, Seiichirou…"

He was heedless of the similar shadows growing, slowly, up his legs.

"A shadow is not an illusion, Muraki," Tatsumi whispered. "From darkness to darkness…Doctor."

The shadows tightened like chains…

…and slipped right through Muraki.

Tatsumi clenched his fist. How could Muraki have slipped away? No illusion could have mimicked those icy hands on his cheek…

"You can't kill the dead, my dear Seiichirou." 

Behind him. Tatsumi whirled around, sending a surge of blackness at the spot. The blackness slid right through the doctor's chest. Nothing. 

"A valiant attempt, I must say," continued the voice, soft as rose petals, yet sharp as thorns. "It took someone far stronger than you to destroy me. Yet here I am, the very place I wanted to return to."

Tatsumi stared, speechless for the first time in his life. Dead. Muraki was dead.

"Ah, yes…the prince who lays here is waiting too, is he not? Such a good boy. You could have learnt from him, Seiichirou."

"Don't say my name," Tatsumi said, anger seeping, unwanted, into his voice. 

"Ah, but what is to stop me, _Seiichirou_? Death has given me the greatest power in the world. And now he will give me a beautiful prince to share it with. I wish you could have seen him, Seiichirou." The spirit's lips curved in a mocking smile, and Muraki licked his lips predatorily. "He might have even stirred your cold heart." 

"Another life…even after death…" Tatsumi could hardly speak. His throat was dry, and his chest tightened painfully. He had never felt anything so deeply. Hatred borne of so many agonies, so many stories from others, so much death and destruction… Red-hot energy pulsed through him, and he focused every bit of power in him, intent on wreaking Muraki's spirit in his blinding fury.

But when the dust cleared, Muraki stood there, laughing arrogantly. "Ah, Seiichirou! So you've learned hatred. It's too late for that lesson, though. You can't do anything to the dead…but I," his eyes narrowed, "can still kill you!"

The silver blade flashed before Tatsumi's eyes, and he braced himself for the inevitable pain…

A muted cry reached his ears, and he felt someone jump between his body and the deadly blade.  He eyes flew open, and his arms instinctively reached forward to catch the boy in front of him.

"Muraki," the boy murmured. Tatsumi recognized him, suddenly. The boy who let him into the castle… So it was true, he thought. The spirit folk didn't age at all. 

"Hisoka?" Muraki's eye widened. 

Hisoka pushed Tatsumi away, standing defiantly by himself, though his shoulder bled from Muraki's blade. He pulled the bloody dagger out, his fingers clenching around the cold metal. Hisoka managed a small smile, despite the pain. "Hello, Doctor," he whispered, breathing heavily. Yet even as he spoke, the wound was healing before Tatsumi's eyes. But even the spirits couldn't…

"A shinigami…?" Even Muraki seemed surprised.

"Because of you," Hisoka said coldly. "You always were right, doctor. Vengeance is a very dangerous emotion." He toyed with the knife gently, running a finger along the end. "Tatsumi, leave Muraki to me." Tatsumi started to object, but Hisoka looked at him with such a cold expression that he found himself, quite surprisingly, speechless. "He is mine, Tatsumi," Hisoka whispered, his voice harsher than could possibly come from a boy so young. 

Muraki made a low sound. He was laughing. "Ah, so my beautiful Hisoka wants some more," he purred. "You've come back to me even after death, lovely one." He narrowed his eyes. "I didn't mean anything by it, of course. And I have found, you see, a boy of even greater beauty than you. I shall have him soon."

Tatsumi felt the anger race through him again, hot and strong, but Hisoka pushed his arm in front of him, stopping him from doing anything.

Muraki took a step closer, offering his hand mockingly. "Hisoka, I see why you stand your ground. But Seiichirou…surely you don't care so much for the dead? You wouldn't give your life for such a," he paused, "_foolish_ thing." He seemed to think before speaking again. "Can it be," he said finally, "that you fight for something…else?"

Tatsumi opened his mouth to speak. A feather-light touch trailed along his shoulder, and… His breath caught in his throat.  Tatsumi's vision dimmed and he felt a delicious softness on his lips, sweet and tender, without a hint of malice. He barely felt the pale fingers slid up the length of his neck, caressing his cheek with chill strokes before pulling back to beckon him forward.

Everything else seemed to fade when he saw _him_. He had limbs like ivory, hair like chocolate spun into silk, and eyes of amethyst that held such sensual promises! Tatsumi's breath caught in his throat. Never had he seen anyone so exquisite, so…breathtaking…

"I could _share_ him with you, Seiichirou..."

Tatsumi yanked his hand back; it had been so close to taking Muraki's. He stepped back, dizzily, in horror, the taste in his mouth suddenly vile. Disgust filled him…and yet, he could barely believe that it had been only a trick. Even as his mind screamed against Muraki's delusion, his heart was captured by it.

"You heard me, Seiichirou. Without me, he will die. But with me…he will live." Muraki's expression never wavered. "Would you kill him just so you can have your vengeance?"

The next thing he knew, wind rushed past him, and he only vaguely heard Hisoka cry out in pain and fall next to him.  There was a sudden agony as he was slammed backwards into the wall. Muraki's face, and that terrifying scarlet eye, filled his eyes, though the pain numbed him to any fear. He felt Muraki's chill fingers, the harsh breaths, so acutely, and for the briefest instant, the thought entered his mind that he would gladly die for the beautiful boy he had seen…

He only vaguely heard Muraki's scream, barely felt the man's weight as he slumped against him. Only when he saw green eyes and soft blonde hair did any of the events finally enter his mind. 

"You…killed him…" Tatsumi felt relief, and joy, and even the slightest jealousy course through him. His composure returned like it had never left, and yet…something felt different, suddenly. The long grief and thirst for vengeance were lifted from him.

"He killed me," Hisoka said, yet the bitterness was fading. His face seemed to grow younger, and he smiled, suddenly. "Tsuzuki," he whispered, and Tatsumi felt his heart stir at the name. 

"Tsuzuki," he echoed, somehow knowing that it was the name of the one he'd seen, the sleeping prince. "Where is he?"

Hisoka pointed to a tower to the north of the castle, a lovely construct of white stone and fine glass. "He's sleeping in the highest room," the boy said. "Now that Muraki is gone, he may be able to wake." He looked at Tatsumi gently. "You may watch over him for now, if you wish."

"I…" Tatsumi stopped mid-sentence. Before his eyes, the boy was…disappearing. His hands, his legs…they were fading completely…

Hisoka smiled tentatively. "His spells are broken," the boy said. "I don't need to be a Shinigami anymore." His face turned serious. "This castle won't be safe for long. Get Prince Tsuzuki out of here… Take him back to his people in the northern kingdom. Please take care of him. With the last of the Shinigami gone, he won't last much longer."

His chest was gone now, and much of his arms. The soft blonde hair and green eyes were almost solid, though.

Tatsumi forced the question from his mouth, needing and fearing the answer. "Why me?"

"You have a good heart," Hisoka replied solemnly. "A warm, caring heart…unlike any I've ever felt before…" The outline of his face grew faint. "Don't be afraid to be human, Tatsumi." The boy sighed, so softly, as the last of his features died away away. "Tsu…zuki…" was the last thing Tatsumi heard him say.

***

The day seemed to brighten. It was only noon, though it had seemed far later only moments ago. So many matters weighed Tatsumi down, yet he felt freer than ever before. A gentle summer breeze ruffled his hair, and he pushed his glasses up thoughtfully. The north tower…that was where he was. The most beautiful prince….

Tatsumi almost laughed. What was he thinking? Believing those lies Muraki had told him, shown him! Who was to say that the prince in the tower wasn't a helpless child, or an old, shriveled corpse! To think that he had believe such nonsense about a…such a beautiful young man…

The door to the tower was unlocked, and Tatsumi found himself at the foot of a tall, spiral staircase. It was cool, almost cold in the tower, and dark, compared to the outside. He flexed his hand. A dozen shadows sprang forth. He didn't even need to summon them to his aid.

He took a defiant step up the staircase. Not so hard at all. He only had to reach the top and wake the prince. Exactly how to do that escaped him at the moment. Another step, then another. There were no windows in this stairway, making it hard to see anything. A few more steps, and a pause to try and see how long the stairs went on.

"I could share him with you…"

Tatsumi shook his head, trying to rid himself of the unwanted thought. 

"He might have even stirred your cold heart…"

Tatsumi stopped. He leaned back against the wall, fighting to regain his composure. What was wrong with him? He had never felt the slightest…never felt anything like the way he felt now. Pleasure, anger, pain, grief—all of these had merely rolled off of him, igniting only a spark of emotion. Even the anger, the vengeance, had been so easy to hide. Not even his friends… No, not friends, just acquaintances. People you saw, and greeted, then left.

And, unwanted, he saw him again. Different, but definitely _him._ Against his will, yet wanted so badly, he felt the warm softness of pale skin, the bright violet fire of dark eyes, the sweetness of petal lips… With all his might, he cursed Muraki. It was some spell, some bewitchment, he was sure. 

Tatsumi pushed himself up the stairs. He could see the top, and the ornate door leading to the prince's room. Standing at the threshold of the enchantment, he took a deep breath. Slowly, he felt calmness return to his soul. Only an illusion, he reminded himself. When he stepped through the door, there would be no one there but the prince, whom he would escort with all haste to the north.

He pushed the door open, wincing in the sudden light. Instinctively, he adjusted his glasses and looked around the room. It was completely white, and filled with the almost sickly-sweet scent of flowers. An old, oft-used fireplace and a large, white-covered bed lay to the other end of the room. The blankets lifted slightly, outlining a body.

Suddenly, it seemed to Tatsumi that he was himself again. The strange sensations faded, and his old strength returned. He ignored the soft ache in his heart and walked forward, intent on doing what he had been sent to…

…

…

…

Tatsumi's heart resumed beating suddenly, sounding deafening in the silent room. His breath was let out, without realizing it had been held in. Every instinct Tatsumi had screamed out against what he saw. 

"Tsuzuki." His lips formed the name, and it echoed in the small room, but the boy didn't stir. One heart beat, one set of lungs breathed, and one pulse pounded…only one. 

No, this wasn't right. Tatsumi's mind flew over the sleeping prince. No stir of breath, no movement at all. He was pale as death. He wasn't moving. 

Tatsumi's hand moved of its own accord; he could never have touched that fragile glass that was the boy's skin. He was cold. Tatsumi knew the warmth of his own skin so much     more as he touched that softness. The longing—he knew the feeling, suddenly—filled him, the yearning to warm the flesh that he was so close to. He was so like the vision, yet so unlike…

He felt clumsy, and weak, and unworthy as his hand caressed the boy's cheek. Boy…? Yes, there was no other way to say it. His features were those of a man, but his face had the innocent melancholy of a boy in the prime of youth, just at the time when sorrow and joy were terribly intermixed, almost indistinguishable. He was so cold; colder than Tatsumi thought possible for a human. He was almost a statue, a dream, a…

Tatsumi shuddered without realizing it. Just like a doll, his mind finished cruelly. Fingers traced the satin cheek, wondering and feeling so weak… They slipped lower, close to the pale rose-colored lips, the lips that had been like warm honey upon his own… 

"Tsuzuki…" The name damned him. Whatever gods had created such perfection would weep to see it marred like this, though who was more to blame—the doctor who had left him like this, or the man about to end it—he did not know. 

Tatsumi leaned down, brown locks staying, for once, out of his face. With all tenderness, and all guilt, he brushed the boy's hair from his pale face, and drew their lips together. Oh…such sensation. Raw, pure sweetness, like dew presented to the parched lips of a thirsting man on pale honeysuckle petals. And the kiss—if it could be called that—was so light, so cautious, so fearful.

Closed eyes opened, never remembering closure. The distance between the two widened, and Tatsumi felt that he could never close it again. He'd lose control completely… It seemed that the spell was broken, the magic gone. Tatsumi recoiled in pure horror, mixed with what he could only call…pure joy.

A soft gasp reached his ears, followed by a sharp intake of breath. Violet eyes peered into his, and blinked. Tatsumi tried to move his mouth, to say an apology, a greeting, something, but… 

"Are you an angel?"

The boy's voice was thick and rough with disuse, but his words were clear. Tatsumi shook his head, cleared his throat, and nervously pushed his glasses back into place. Somehow, he felt calmer.

"If anyone is brethren to an angel," he said evenly, "it is you, young Prince."

Tsuzuki—no, Prince Tsuzuki, Tatsumi corrected himself—looked around the room, blinking owlishly and cocking his head. He pushed himself into a sitting position, wavering unsteadily until he leaned against the headboard. He was kind of like a puppy, Tatsumi thought off-hand. A harsh shudder wracked his lithe frame suddenly. His eyes widened. "My room…?" His voice was still rough, but gradually the soft melody returned. Another, more violent shudder. The confused, sleepy look in his eyes disappeared as he lifted up his left arm. He looked up at Tatsumi, his wide eyes full of tears. "Why did you bring me back!" he cried out. His beautiful face race silver with tears and the violet of his eyes darkened. "You…you demon!" he cried out again, burying his face in his hands.

Tatsumi made a move forward, then stopped. The boy wept openly, his entire body shivering and shaking. He assessed the situation as quickly as possible, and took another step closer. He kept his step light and slow, so as not to startle the princeling. The boy noticed anyway, and blearily looked up. His anger was fading, but his eyes…his eyes didn't change. A soft smile graced his mouth, but it seemed forced.

Tatsumi pulled out his handkerchief. As gently as he could, he dabbed the pale tears from the boy's cheeks. A soft flush crept into his cheeks, but he kept his eyes steady on Tatsumi's.  Tatsumi looked to see what had startled him so. Long gashes marred the skin of his wrist. Tatsumi tried not to change his expression, but he knew what the scars meant. They could only mean… Tatsumi pulled the soft, tear-stained material out, folding it loosely and tying it firmly around the slender wrist. Tsuzuki stared at it dumbly.

"Is that better?" Tatsumi kept his voice measured, even. 

"…yes," Tsuzuki replied. His lips formed the word, but almost no sound passed from them.

Tatsumi was confused. Tsuzuki said he was alright, but his entire body was tense. His eyes were fixed on the pale cloth. Tatsumi gently moved the tips of his fingers over the boy's wrist, trying to get his attention. If anything, Tsuzuki grew tenser than before. His eyes fluttered up, giving Tatsumi another look at the shimmering violet orbs before they disappeared. Tsuzuki's eyes seemed to be looking everywhere but at him. 

"I'm sorry to have scared you." The detachment came easily. A smile, a soft voice, and kind expression… "How do you feel, Tsu…" Wrong. Cover it up, smile… "Prince?"

"Y…you can call me that," Tsuzuki said. "Please, call me Tsuzuki." His voice grew louder, but still shaky. Even his own name sounded strange. "I…I feel alright." His fingers curled over Tatsumi's, and his grip was a little too hard. "You…" Finally, they gazed at each other eye-to-eye. "You're not…scared?"

Tatsumi tried to reign in his confusion. "Scared?" he repeated softly. The fingers gripped him tighter, almost painfully. "Scared…" He measured his words carefully before finishing, "of what?" He laid his other hand over Tsuzuki's fingers, gently coaxing them out of their harsh grip. Tsuzuki's hand was pinned between his, and he relaxed slightly.

"Of me," he answered. A soft blush worked its way onto his face. "Everyone… everyone's scared of me. That's why I'm here." He squeezed Tatsumi's hand slightly, and said distantly, "You're so warm…."

"…" Tatsumi found himself speechless with shock. He used his free hand to brush away a stray brown lock, trying to assess this new information. 

Tsuzuki spoke before he could. "Are you…sure you're not an angel? I remember…" His brow creased, and he paused. "They looked different from everyone else in the world, and they were warm and made you happy…"

Tatsumi felt his resolve slipping.  That feeling… It was stronger than ever. He let out a soft gasp as cool fingers slid over his back. He felt the boy pull away, his eyes wide and fearful. "I…I didn't mean…" Tsuzuki stammered. "But…"

Tatsumi understood without words. He shook his head. "I'm not an angel," he said, "and I'm afraid I don't have wings hidden anywhere."

"Oh…" Tsuzuki's eyes were downcast. He shivered despite the summer warmth. Yet, when he looked up again, a smile was on his face. 

"Can you walk?" Pain gripped Tatsumi's heart, but his mind went on, heedless.

"I think so…"

Watching the boy move was like watching a child take his first steps. But the fluid, sensual grace he had showed nothing of the clumsiness of a naïve child, just the gentle forgetfulness of waking. The pale clothing he wore flowed along his limbs like mist. Tatsumi noted the longish brown locks curling around his shoulders, the long fingers, and the slenderness of his entire body.

A gasp rang out, and Tatsumi found himself straining to catch the prince. He was far too light. His hands grasped the slender waist tightly, and he found himself staring down into violet eyes. Tsuzuki's full weight strained his arms, but Tatsumi was heedless as he saw the emotions flit across those large orbs: confusion, fear, embarrassment… Tsuzuki buried his face against Tatsumi's shoulder.

Tatsumi blinked, his senses slowly returning. How foolish could he be? Of course Tsuzuki wouldn't be able to just get up like nothing had ever happened. Instinctively, he held the boy tighter, pushing them back towards the bed. He made sure Tsuzuki was firmly on the soft blankets before loosening his arms. 

"I'm so sorry!" Tsuzuki's words were loud, anxious. He peered owlishly up at Tatsumi, his eyes wavering. Tatsumi couldn't help but smile. Tsuzuki looked just like a puppy, he thought again. Yes, just like a little one who was scared of being scolded. He shivered. Tatsumi frowned at that. It was high summer. Why in the world …? Tsuzuki's eyes wavered more. Tatsumi shook his head, smiling down again. Tsuzuki was still clinging to him tightly. He pulled the boy's hands away as gently as he could, and pushed his jacket off. Tsuzuki peered at him curiously.

The look of happiness on his face was radiant when Tatsumi wrapped the warm material around Tsuzuki's thin shoulders. He buried himself into the older man's chest, a soft, content noise coming from his throat. Protectiveness surged through Tatsumi. He knew that, no matter what was to happen, he had to stay with the prince. He was as vulnerable as a child. And…so very beautiful…

"I can carry you, Tsuzuki," Tatsumi said gently. "You're in no condition to walk."

Tsuzuki looked at him, confusion written all over his face. "Why?" he asked simply.

"It's getting late, and the next kingdom is a decent journey from here. I have a horse, but he's tied up outside the castle. I—"

Tsuzuki's eyes were wide. "We're going outside?" he whispered. His eyes drifted to the window behind him. "…outside…"

"You've…never been outside before?" Tatsumi said evenly, trying to keep the disbelief out of his voice. 

Tsuzuki shook his head. He looked back at Tatsumi. "I want to, please," he said longingly. He curled his hands into fists, and pushed forward before Tatsumi could react. His legs wobbled beneath him, but he stood up. His face couldn't hide the pain, but defiantly took a small step forward.

Tatsumi smiled. This boy was stronger than he looked. He gently wrapped an arm around Tsuzuki's waist, helping to steady the boy. Tsuzuki wrapped his arm around Tatsumi's neck, his fingers curling around Tatsumi's shoulder. Each step was painful, but Tsuzuki kept going. Slowly, he managed to walk.

They reached the bottom of the tower, and Tsuzuki stopped, suddenly. A small tremble went through his frame. Tatsumi's voice, whispered gently into his ear, calmed his racing heart. "You…you won't go searching for angels again, will you?" 

"No." Tsuzuki's feather-light voice suddenly found its footing. Tatsumi smiled at him, and he felt…happy. Content. Tsuzuki let his other arm wrap around the taller man, and, finding that neither minded the gentle hug, he clung even more tightly. "You…" Tsuzuki's voice was barely a whisper. "You'll show me? Show me the outside?"

"If that's what you want." Inside, Tatsumi felt a strength, a happiness he hadn't known before. He _wanted_ to stay with Tsuzuki… 

"Yes, that's just what I want."

And, together, they took their first step outside…

To be continued…


	2. Part 2

Yami no Matsuei fairy tale, part 2

By Sakura no Miko

Summary: This is more of an odd little idea that popped into my head. It's a continuation of my "Sleeping Beauty" with Yami no Matsuei characters.

Disclaimer: Anyone who thinks I own Yami no Matsuei, or would make a profit off of it, needs to see a doctor. Quickly.

Warnings: This is the second half of my dark fairy tale, following more of Tsuzuki and Tatsumi's relationship. It's still pretty dark, but decidedly more fluffy in this part.

Again, there's shounen ai/yaoi/'hot guys doing hot things to each other,' of the Tatsumi/Tsuzuki variety.

Also: I'm going with American-style names (given name, family name) and completely making up all aspects of both Tsuzuki's and Tatsumi's family lives.

* * *

Long ago, a beautiful young prince was placed under a curse so terrible that, even now, many are loathe to speak of it. Prince Asato Tsuzuki of Chikyuu was the only child of a noble King and Queen, brought into the world with the help of a cruel doctor. Muraki, as the doctor was known, was a practitioner of the black arts, known throughout the land for being able to cure the most terrible injuries. He saved the life of the child and Queen, but his plans turned dark when the rulers sought to cut all ties with him.

At the birth party of the young prince, he received the gifts of three powerful spirits, known as the Three Shinigami. First, he was given beauty beyond all known in the world, and an ever-joyful, gentle personality. But after these wonderful gifts were bestowed, Muraki returned, and, in the blackness of his heart, he cursed the babe, damning him to die before his youth ended.

By fortune, the power of the last Shinigami softened the blow, sentencing the child to a long and dark sleep, but not to death.

To save the child, many sacrifices were made, many hearts wounded. The King and Queen's lives ended miserably, though they rejoiced that they would not have to see their child die. The measures taken to save the child left him alone, trapped in a living tomb of white, able to see, yet never touch, the outside world. So it came to happen that, when he was but a year away from the end of his youth, Prince Tsuzuki took his own life.

As promised, however, he only slept...

The decades passed, and with them, adventurers seeking to wake the sleeping beauty. It was many years until, at last, Tatsumi Tatsumi of Meifu found his way to the realm of Tsuzuki's enchantment, and woke the beautiful boy. Together, they made their way out of the ancient castle, to the outside...

* * *

The northern kingdom, Tenkuu by name, had grown from the remains of many kingdoms left powerless and leaderless through war. The remnants of Chikyuu, urged by the Three Shinigami to leave their prince in peace, sought refuge in the newly-formed kingdom. Few believed they would ever see their prince again, and many were right. Years, even decades had passed since that fateful day, and only a few elderly servants remained alive. Children scoffed at them, their foolish dreams.

And so, imagine the joyous cries that rang when the watches first proclaimed the great news: Two strangers, upon a single white horse, both handsome and weary, seeking refuge. One of them claimed to be a prince, the men laughed, and the prince of the lost Chikyuu, no less!

The few that could came, in all haste, to the gates, staring in wonder at the lovely strangers. One, standing straight and tall, soft brown hair ruffled by the breeze, peering about through his glasses and throwing a cold glare at the laughing sentries. The other, smaller—or so it seemed, for he was slightly slumped, standing close to the other man—with dark, chocolate-brown hair falling to his shoulders, nervously hiding his face. When he looked up, defiance and a bit of anger of his face, the guards' laughter was silenced as his bright violet eyes fell upon them. He straightened up, a strange pride emanating from him, but made no sound. His hand, few noted, was tightly clasped in the other man's, and the other's expression was gentler, for the briefest instant.

An old matron, hardly able to walk, approached, leaning heavily on a younger man's shoulder. A loud sob tore from her throat, and all eyes fell to her. "My Prince!" she cried, falling weakly to her knees.

"Mother..." cried the young man, hurriedly trying to pull her up. She would not move, her eyes fixed on the strangers.

The smaller man's stance softened, confusion written all over his face. His eyes widened as they met the dulled, but still blue, eyes of the old woman. He broke away from his companion, running to the woman. His throat was dry, his voice hoarse, but his words rang clear: "I remember...I know you..."

"Oh, Prince!" the woman wept, turning her face away, "Prince..."

Violet eyes met with silver tears. "Can...can you really be her? You're that little girl who...used to look up at me..." The man fell to his knees, embracing the woman instantly, then pulling back with fear in his eyes.

The woman looked at him sadly. "Oh, my beautiful Prince..." She reached, with a frail hand, to touch his face. He stiffened, then relaxed into the gentle caress, clasping the wrinkled hand beneath his own.

"You used to call up to me from the courtyard," he whispered. "Kirei."

"Oh, Prince! To remember such...such a foolish girl!" Through her tears, a smile found its way to her face. "We...we knew you'd come back to us! We tried to hold on! Oh, how happy everyone would be to see you now, my Prince..."

He suddenly realized his companion was behind him. "Tatsumi!" he cried out. "I'm so sorry! I...I should have believed you!"

A hand found touched his shoulder. "It's alright, Tsuzuki. Few people would believe such a story. I don't blame you."

"Tatsumi...this is Kirei...my friend," Tsuzuki said gently.

Kirei smiled. With her son's help, she marched angrily to the sentries. "This is Prince Asato Tsuzuki of Chikyuu! How dare you laugh at him!"

"But Kirei...he'd be older than you by now," one of the younger men snickered.

Tsuzuki paled. The simple, mocking comment hurt him terribly. He should have... Tsuzuki shook off the thought, but the pain remained. Tatsumi's hand gripped him harder, and the simple gesture felt wonderful. "K...Kirei," he called out. "Please, Kirei, it's enough." He smiled, despite the pain, the enormity of what he finally understood. So much time had passed...and it was his world no longer. "Kirei...tell me, who's still...still alive? I want to meet them."

Tatsumi's hand slid off his shoulder, and when Tsuzuki looked up questioningly, he saw the hand outstretched, reaching for his own. Gratefully, he let Tatsumi help him back to his feet. 'That's right,' he thought to himself. 'This is Tatsumi's world.' Tatsumi's hands were always warm, unlike his, but neither of them minded. 'I'd have never met...Tatsumi...' A soft, strange sort of pain filled him when he thought of not having the taller man at his side. No, it wasn't quite pain. It disappeared the moment he saw Tatsumi giving a death glare to the poor guards again. He couldn't help but smile. Tatsumi was with him, so there was no point to thinking otherwise.

* * *

The arrangements were quick and simple: a single room at the inn, a small piece of a neighboring field for their horses, and privacy. Tsuzuki had wandered around the room for a bit, marveling at everything from the small statues to the fabric of the blankets. He finally wandered downstairs, seeking the source of a pleasant smell that had wafted even to their remote area.

Tatsumi, however, was intent on starting a fire, and as quickly as he could. It was far colder in this kingdom than he'd expected, and he didn't need his fragile companion getting sick. The firewood was, for some bizarre reason, on the other side of the room, and he enlisted several shadows to help move the heavy load. Glancing back, he noted that most of the pile had been carried to the fireplace already. One or two more trips and it would be done. Tatsumi leaned gently into the ash-colored fireplace, trying his best to coax the small flame onto the small branches he'd used as kindling.

His thoughts wandered to the younger man. He was probably having a wonderful time eating whatever it was they'd smelled. It had probably been some type of sweet cake or other dessert. Tatsumi sighed softly. Tsuzuki definitely had a liking for sweet foods. Still, he was worried about the Tsuzuki's naiveté. He could get hurt so easily... Yes, he'd have to go downstairs and look for him soon, before he got into any trouble.

Ah, the flame had finally taken hold. Tatsumi reached for a few of the smaller logs and...touched the bare ground. He pushed himself back to his feet. Everything should have been here by now... Tatsumi pulled irritably at the shadows, and to his surprise, they pulled back. Tatsumi turned around, confused and—

Tsuzuki.

Tsuzuki was standing there, right in the middle of the room, staring at the dark swirls of shadow. He reached out, hesitant but determined, and ran his hand over a length of blackness. And he laughed. The shadow twirled gently around his hand and pulled it in Tatsumi's direction. Tsuzuki's smile was bright, and he said, "Tatsumi? Are these yours?"

Tatsumi was so surprised he couldn't reply. He'd expected...he expected Tsuzuki to be frightened, or surprised, anything but the serene, happy expression he saw on the boy's face.

"Tatsumi?" Tsuzuki's face morphed into concern, and the shadow tugged insistently at his hand. That was another thing. Why...how were his shadows doing this? Acting of their own free will?

"Tatsumi!" Tsuzuki pouted adorably. "Tatsumi, are you alright?" He grabbed Tatsumi's outstretched hand. Wait...when had he...?

Tatsumi nodded mutely.

"You scared me at first," Tsuzuki continued, blissfully unaware of Tatsumi's agitation. "I thought I was seeing things." He looked Tatsumi in the eye and said, with mock anger, "You could have just come down yourself, or called me, instead of sending these...these things downstairs." The shadow squeezed his hand. "They are cute, though," Tsuzuki amended, patting the shadow on his arm. It uncurled itself and faded away. "What are they?"

"Shadows," Tatsumi murmured, trying to understand what had happened. He barely noticed when Tsuzuki dropped his hand and knelt in front of the fire.

"So warm..." he heard Tsuzuki whisper distantly. Tatsumi glanced over at the boy, who was happily warming his hands at the fire. Tatsumi frowned. The expression on Tsuzuki's face...the way he was biting his lip, as if in pain...

...the hands far too close to the flames...

"Tsuzuki!" Tatsumi reacted instantly, roughly grabbing the pale arms back. Tsuzuki cried out in pain, his teary eyes hurt and confused. His hands were already red, blistering, and hot to the touch. Tatsumi held to the slender wrists, wondering what he could do to heal the wounds, end the pain.

"Tatsumi...what are you doing?" the voice, sweet but trembling, asked softly. "Tatsumi..." Scared eyes met concerned ones, and the swift beats of Tsuzuki's hearts slowed to a gentler rhythm. He blinked once, twice. The soft ache in his hands was already beginning to fade. It was faster now, he realized. What was Tatsumi doing? Tsuzuki felt the urge to whine, or maybe pout at the man for pulling him away from the warm fire.

Tatsumi watched, his mouth opened stupidly, as the red burns faded from Tsuzuki's flesh as if they were some trick of the light, some illusion meant to scare him. "Tsuzuki...how...?" he stammered. He was scaring himself now.

"How what?" Tsuzuki replied, sincerely confused.

"Your hands...they're healed...like they were never hurt," Tatsumi murmured, still half in shock.

Tsuzuki blinked. He began to laugh, relief pouring over him. "Tatsumi, stop teasing me. Of course I'm already healed. I'm even faster now than I ever was before." Tatsumi's eyes narrowed and Tsuzuki was thrown back into confusion. Gradually, though, Tatsumi began to laugh; a small smile appeared on his face. "Tatsumi, you're not making sense," Tsuzuki pouted. "Doesn't everyone heal like this?"

"No," came the abrupt reply. Tsuzuki's expression changed to something... something almost like fear. Or shame. "Just like not everyone can do this," he said gently as a flame-like shadow appeared in the palm of his hand.

Tsuzuki looked at his own hand curiously. He shook his head suddenly. "No! You're lying," he said angrily. "I'm no different from everyone else." His eyes, his voice, raised the plea, and it broke Tatsumi's heart.

He could remember it all to well. The way everyone shrunk away in fear...struck out in anger...stared and talked as he passed by... He even remembered his own disbelief and grief that he was the only one who could do what he did.

"Watch," he said suddenly, a thought crossing his mind. Gritting his teeth, his thrust his hand into the fire and tried not to cry out. Tsuzuki's reaction was instantaneous. He grabbed Tatsumi firmly by the arm and pulled his hand back. The both of them fell backwards, tumbling onto the floor. Tsuzuki ended up sprawled on top of the older man, whose first action was to reach up and push his glasses back into place.

"Your hand," Tsuzuki whispered when he saw the reddened fingers, the open blisters. "Tatsumi...you..." He swallowed. "Why?" He _knew_, deep down, that Tatsumi had been telling the truth. He knew he was different, locked up away from everyone else. And he'd _let_ Tatsumi hurt himself!

"It's nothing," Tatsumi insisted, trying unsuccessfully to get up. Tsuzuki pushed him back down, his eyes tearing up. He looked down at his companion silently, trying to say something, anything. It was too much, too fast. Finally, he buried his face against Tatsumi's shoulder, trying to make sense of all the changes, all the revelations. Tatsumi's arms wrapped around him, and he felt safer than he'd ever felt in his own lonely bed all the nights of his life.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Tsuzuki..." His eyes were very bright, Tatsumi noticed. Brighter than anyone else's he'd ever seen. His eyes shone with emotions he didn't understand, but couldn't stop. There was a sense of vulnerability that radiated from him, and he was all the more desirable because of it. "I forgive you," he said, as gently and softly as he could, "even though there's nothing to forgive." There was a soft sound, and Tatsumi realized that the boy had managed to fall into a fitful sleep in his arms.

And so ended their first day in their new home...

* * *

"Tatsumi?" Tsuzuki called gently, seeking his friend as he stepped into their little room. He let out his breath gently when he saw Tatsumi, curled up slightly on one of the chairs, a book fallen near his feet. He was sleeping.

Days had already become weeks, and he found, to his great joy, that life was getting better everyday. He never ran out of things to say, or people to talk to, or foods to eat. The fear that used to characterize him was overrun by curiosity. Just today, he'd seen his first puppy. The tiny, wriggling bundle of fur licked him on the face and chased him around until they both collapsed. He poked his little nose everywhere, trying to understand the world, a tiny bit at a time. Tsuzuki smiled at the memory.

But that wasn't what he wanted to ask Tatsumi. It was something he'd noticed, but couldn't figure out. Tatsumi had to be asleep, didn't he? Tsuzuki cringed at the thought. The night before... He'd had a terrible dream, about falling and falling and darkness and never seeing anyone else again. He must have cried, or screamed, because he woke up in Tatsumi's arms, the older man stroking his hair and whispering softly in his ears. Tatsumi was wonderful. He always knew what to do. Tsuzuki had fallen asleep again, but had Tatsumi? He'd already been gone when Tsuzuki woke up, and come in soon after, bringing fresh fruits and other things for breakfast. And he brought lots of sweet cake-like things. Tatsumi always remembered to bring something sweet.

Tatsumi was perfect.

Tsuzuki smiled at the thought. No one was perfect, he knew, but Tatsumi was so close. Tatsumi did everything right. He remembered everything, and always knew what to do. He even looked perfect. His hair almost never fell in his face like Tsuzuki's did, and his eyes were blue like the sky. Lots of people in this kingdom had blue eyes, Tsuzuki noticed. Or they were green like grass or brown like the earth. No one had purple eyes like his. It was just another different thing about him, he supposed.

"Tsuzuki?"

Tsuzuki smiled. Tatsumi's voice always sounded strange when he woke up. It was a pretty sort of strange, though. "You're awake," he pointed out happily. "I wanted to ask you something."

Tatsumi stared at him for a moment, and Tsuzuki wondered why. But then it was gone, and Tatsumi smiled at him. "Ask whatever you want."

"Why do people have two names?"

Tatsumi blinked. "People have two names because... Well, so people know who they are. People used to have just one name, but if there were two people with the same name, they'd get mixed up sometimes and cause trouble."

"Do you have two names?" Tsuzuki asked curiously. Tatsumi was Tatsumi.

"Yes..." Tsuzuki's eyes went wide. He was so open, Tatsumi thought. "Most people have one name that they share with their family, and one name that's just theirs. 'Tatsumi' is my family's name."

Tsuzuki looked at him owlishly. "You mean your mother and father and brothers and sisters are all named 'Tatsumi' too?"

"They would be," Tatsumi said gently, trying not to laugh at Tsuzuki's boyish expression.

Tsuzuki frowned so hard he went cross-eyed. "Then what's your other name?"

Tatsumi's mouth ran dry. The last person who ever called him by his given name had been...

"Tatsumi?" Tsuzuki leaned forward, peering into his eyes. "Don't you like your name?"

"No, that's not it."

"Then...what?"

Tatsumi looked away. "It's been a long time since anyone called me....that name..."

Tsuzuki was quiet. Tatsumi looked back at him, the silent question written all over his face. But he kept quiet. He seemed to sense, somehow, that Tatsumi was reluctant.

"...Seiichirou." There, it was out. Tatsumi let out a breath. It didn't hurt as much as he'd thought it would, saying the old name again.

"Sei...i...chi...ro..." Tsuzuki said slowly, and softly. "Seiichirou! I like it. Can I call you Seiichirou, Tatsumi?" His hands rushed to his mouth. "I...I mean...if you don't mind," he stammered.

"Um...if you want to...yes," Tatsumi stammered in surprise. The way Tsuzuki said his name...it was nothing like...nothing like the way _he_ said it. The soft melody of Tsuzuki's voice was nothing like _his_ bitter poison. Tsuzuki made anything sound wonderful.

Tsuzuki was frowning again. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. "I don't know it," he said suddenly. "I don't remember my other name."

Tatsumi would have smiled, if not for the look of fear that filled Tsuzuki's face. He wouldn't care if he never heard the name 'Seiichirou' again for all of his life. Tsuzuki was the only person he'd ever met whose voice could say that name without revulsion filling his heart. No, with Tsuzuki it was the exact opposite. Tsuzuki, with the voice of an angel... Tsuzuki _was_ his angel...

"Asato," he said softly, looking into those dark violet eyes. "She called you Asato Tsuzuki."

He blinked, but nothing else changed. "...again," he whispered, almost too soft to hear.

"Asato."

Tsuzuki sank down into the chair next to Tatsumi. A choking sensation, deep in his chest, made him ache terribly. He didn't remember...but Tatsumi made the name sound so sweet. "I...I don't know..." he confessed, burying his face in his hands. He felt so weak, so ashamed. He was selfish, he realized. He brought up the subject, and forced Tatsumi to talk when it was hurting him, and now...he wanted nothing but to sob when he went through the same pain. "Again?" he asked, half-pleading.

He knew, even before he felt them, that Tatsumi would wrap him up in his arms. The sweet whisper, "Asato," in his ears.... He knew that, too. "Seiichirou," drifted from his lips, and he felt the soft shudder that ran through Tatsumi's body at the familiarity of the name. He could remember that lone fact: to call someone by their other name was special, precious. Tsuzuki had, in his heart, only been joking when he asked the question. He understood intimately that sweet understanding that allowed two people to speak so freely, to give their true names away...and he'd taken advantage of Tatsumi's kindness mercilessly.

But this moment...was worth it. Some part of him craved the weaknesses he wanted to hide. Some part of him wanted, so badly, the safety and warmth Tatsumi gave him. And, deep down, he tried to assure himself that Tatsumi felt the same way. There, he could sense it, the way Tatsumi relaxed, the way his breathing fell even and soft.

Over Tatsumi's shoulder, his own arm held fast to the jacket hanging loosely off Tatsumi's firm frame. Though the soft material hid it well, he remembered the bright streaks, never healed, on his wrist, and he remembered, though he tried to forget, the pain and icy cold of his prison.

Tsuzuki had realized long ago why he was never let out of that room, why no one ever came to see him more than once. He was weak, and he was silly, and he was different. Who would want the burden of keeping him? What could he offer to anyone but trouble?

Being with Tatsumi only highlighted it more. They were so different from one another. Tatsumi was warm, and strong, like sunlight. Tsuzuki was cold, and delicate, like the moonlight. He wanted to be like Tatsumi so badly...and yet, here he was, going on like a child and making Tatsumi protect him from the world.

"Sei...Seiichirou," he said softly, waiting for the other's man's attention. "I'm alright now, Seiichirou," he lied, trying to sound truthful.

"Asato..." The name almost undid him. No, he would be strong for Tatsumi, he would be strong for himself, he would be strong...

"Thanks," he said feebly, pushing away from the embrace as gently as he could. "I'm really okay, Seiichirou." He was probably so obvious in his lies, but he didn't care.

"I know you are," Tatsumi replied, and Tsuzuki was able to smile again. Tatsumi couldn't lie very well either.

* * *

The days passed quickly. Too quickly, Tatsumi thought sometimes. He couldn't explain what he felt anymore. He was...happy, wasn't he? It had been nearly half a year since he'd found Asato...no, Tsuzuki, his thoughts corrected him. Tsuzuki couldn't understand the closeness of the name he had begged Tatsumi to call him. Even so, in that time, the princeling had grown so much. He didn't flinch at people's touch anymore; in fact, he relished even the simplest handshake. He didn't awake in the middle of the night, crying and shivering over some dream or memory. He held himself with a glowing sense of pride, kind to everyone, but second to none.

Tsuzuki didn't need him anymore.

It had taken all of his strength, but he had managed to tear himself away. He'd taken a trip homewards, intent on seeing whether Tsuzuki would have any problems without him. He intended to stay a week...then another...and another... Tatsumi knew that Tsuzuki would never call out to him, never need him again. It was just a well, for black thoughts had been growing in his mind as of late. They had become stranger and stronger, almost overpowering in their sheer intensity. Ever since Tsuzuki had begun to avoid him, to keep to himself, he'd wanted the prince with him more and more.

He hated himself, the black thoughts that he couldn't help but entertain. His memories taunted him, reminding him that, when Tsuzuki had done all those things, he'd felt annoyance more than once, and even wished the burden of the fragile prince on another. Tatsumi's finely-tuned schedules, his plans...everything was ruined. His mind warred with his heart, over an over again. He knew he couldn't go back to the way he was, and he cursed Tsuzuki. He ached that he couldn't keep Tsuzuki with him always, and he cursed himself. And never...never could he decide which path would be more painful...

And yet...Tatsumi cursed his every waking thought about Tsuzuki. He was ashamed of himself. Tsuzuki had grown so much, but he wanted...he wanted him to go back. He wanted Tsuzuki to flinch at every strange touch, knowing that he was the only one Tsuzuki ever trusted enough to lay hands on him. He craved, even once, another night where Tsuzuki's soft sobs tore him out of bed and led the boy into his arms for comfort. And, as beautiful as Tsuzuki had grown as he walked on his own under the sun, Tatsumi wanted...he wanted to have those twilight nights of traveling slowly, the lovely prince jumping into his arms at every little sound, hiding his face from other travelers, clinging to Tatsumi like a beautiful, newborn child. How perversely he craved the pure, angelic creature he'd rescued...

In his dreams, he couldn't stop the mad flow of thoughts; no one could, really. But it was in his dreams, in the blackness of night, that he hated himself the most. He never thought to leave Tsuzuki in his dreams, though he knew he had to. No, it was far worse than that. He dreamt and awoke, like Tsuzuki on those long-ago nights, sobbing and shaking, covered in sweat and scared to his core. For in his dreams—such sweet, terrible dreams—he knew, so very well, the madness that had drawn Muraki to the boy: the sweet, pale skin, the piercing violet eyes, the softness of his voice...and the sweet seduction of his lips. One kiss, not even returned, filled Tatsumi's dreams. Day by lonely day, the ache in his heart grew stronger, and his treacherous mind conceived more and more ways to sooth it.

He wanted to tear himself to pieces for daring to think such thoughts. The stainless purity Tsuzuki possessed was meant for someone else, someone who could give the boy everything he needed...not a false friend who allowed such foul thoughts to pass in the night.

No, it was Tatsumi who now broke. He couldn't think of anything but the prince. His neighbors worried over him, gone for so long and finally returned, but changed so drastically. His "mother," a fine old widow, took one look in his eyes and said, with all finality, that he needed to go right back to whatever he'd come from and not come back until he found whatever it was he was looking for there.

That had been all he needed. He swore to himself that he would only glance, only make it concrete in his mind that Tsuzuki no longer needed him.

"Tatsumi!" called one of the young mothers, waving happily. "We're so glad you're back!"

"Maybe we'll get some sleep now, eh?" said the innkeeper, cackling gently. Tatsumi frowned. The inn was always so quiet; he and Tsuzuki had never heard anything strange during their extended stay. The innkeeper took hold of Tatsumi's horse. "You hurry up and get up there. He hasn't slept at all since you left, Tatsumi."

The look on Tatsumi's face was nothing short of horrified. He dashed into the inn, barely stopping to take the off his muddy shoes or greet the others.

He felt the soft cries before he heard them. He could envision Tsuzuki in his mind perfectly—the silver streaks of tears sliding down his pale cheeks, the nearly-closed, reddened eyes, the tragically beautiful shape of his mouth...

The moment he opened the door to their room, Tsuzuki was in his arms. Tatsumi sighed, gently, and buried his face into the prince's soft hair. Ah, the feeling of Tsuzuki's soft flesh, his warmth, his tear-streaked face...his sweet voice. "Seiichirou..." he whispered, smiling as best he could. "I...I..."

"Shhh, shh...I'm here. I'm sorry." The words poured out of his mouth, heedless of his mind's objections. He knew what he was doing—he knew he'd never be able to leave again if he...succumbed...

"Seiichirou..."

In that moment, Tatsumi knew he'd have done anything to soothe the prince. His sweet prince...

"I wanted to be strong..." Heartbreaking, the words tumbling out from petal-soft lips...

"I wanted to be like you, Seiichirou...I've hurt you so much...."

The anguished scream of his soul was silenced by lips refusing to part.

"I thought...it would be better for both of us...But I missed you so much Seiichirou. I thought I'd never see you again..."

"I'm so sorry," he tried to scream, but it was barely a whisper, so close to Tsuzuki's ear. "I'm so sorry," repeated over and over. He wanted to explain, to find some reason for the pain, but...he couldn't. How could he spill all the blackness in his own heart to the beautiful angel before him?

It was only as the thought crossed his mind that he realized...there was no darkness. He was closer than he'd ever been to the boy, yet he felt nothing but concern, and regrets, and sorrow. The frail shaking of his shoulders, the brightness of his eyes, and the breathless parting of his lips were so beautiful, yet he felt nothing black in his heart.

How tightly he cradled Tsuzuki in his arms when he realized the simple truth. As long as they were together, he knew nothing but tender love for his lovely prince. It had always been like that. The blackness was only his own loneliness, his own fears and questions turned against the closest thing in his heart...his Asato.

* * *

It was their "anniversary," Tatsumi noted, almost playfully. An entire year had passed since he had seen the white tower, the living tomb of the sleeping prince. His heart warmed at the thought—though not at the pale, sleeping figure he had found, but the strong, beautiful man he had become. Tsuzuki was so different than he'd expected. He was strong, determined, and above all, extremely clever.

And he had changed, too. He'd never felt so...warm. Somehow, merely being near the lithe prince made him happy. It was unexplainable, and yet made so much sense. In the back of his mind, some part of him still wanted the boy, but he'd realized that as long as they were just...just with each other, he was happy. He felt uneasy displaying his affection, worried that someone might pick up on the desires he hid away, or that, worse, Tsuzuki himself might notice. No, Tatsumi decided firmly, things were good as they were now. He was still able to take the boy in his arms, and whisper sweet words to him, watch the way his face lit up when he realized what Tatsumi was telling him.

Now, Tatsumi was planning something very sweet for his Tsuzuki. They hadn't traveled much since making their way to their little home, and he intended to change that, or at least start to. A visit to Meifu might be just the solution. It was a little selfish—the plan had come from his own desires to return home, to let everyone else meet Tsuzuki, and to, perhaps, enjoy once more the sweet, fearful curiosity Tsuzuki had possessed when they met. He admitted it to himself freely, more freely than he might have before. It was Tsuzuki's effect on him, he supposed. It was hard to keep up his shields around the younger man. Tsuzuki was so free-spirited and honest that it became hard to be anything less than the same with him.

Yes, he mused to himself as he caught sight of his dearest companion returning from whatever it was he'd chosen to do that day. They'd both changed so much. When Tsuzuki jumped playfully into his arms, chattering incessantly about everything he'd seen, he just smiled. So many things had remained exactly the same, too.

* * *

Tsuzuki was, quite literally, in Heaven. At least, he was in something very much like it. The grass was thick and dark green, the sky blue and painted with wisps of cloud, and the trees tall and ancient. He remembered, faintly, walking through these very woods when he first awoke, but everything seemed much more frightening then. They had three whole days to travel through this beauty. Tatsumi wanted to go back home, and this time, he'd invited Tsuzuki to come with him.

The thought stirred up memories. The last time, Tatsumi had been so...abrupt. Tsuzuki had been so sure he'd done something wrong, and the idea scared him senseless. The moment he heard the familiar steps at their door he'd last himself, wanting nothing but to have Tatsumi back with him. The feeling of being wrapped up, safe and warm, in his arms was like nothing else in the world. It felt so good, so familiar, so...natural. He couldn't quite remember how he'd ever survived without Tatsumi, except that the world was a much more lonesome place. It seemed to him that he'd woken up in Tatsumi's arms one day, and all the rest was some terrible nightmare he'd dreamed up, but no...the scars, dark and accusatory, lay in front of him every day. Some nights he would awake, for no reason, and end up gazing at the bright red slashes on the underside of his hand. It was all so hazy. Pain, and blood, and something black inside him...

Tsuzuki shook his head. He'd always end up looking at Tatsumi afterwards, close to crying, trying to sleep again. Some nights, when the memories were especially bad, he'd end up lying against Tatsumi, whether he moved or the other man did. It was just...what they did. It wasn't even something they thought about. Their sleep came more easily on those nights, especially in those first winter days, when the frail firelight seemed to do nothing to alleviate the chill of the night air.

Once, though...once, right before Tatsumi had left him... That one night was especially dark and cold, for the fire had gone out. That night, for the first time, it had been Tatsumi who cried in his sleep. He never awoke, even when Tsuzuki had gotten up and walked, so afraid, to comfort him. Tatsumi had let his hand run down Tsuzuki's cheek, murmured something, and...that was it. He fell back into a calm sleep, and Tsuzuki watched him for a long time afterwards. There was something different about Tatsumi when he slept. He looked younger, more childlike. His arms were heavier than normal, almost crushing Tsuzuki in the night.

And Tsuzuki had come to enjoy that more than anything else.

He stole a glance at his companion, pretending to follow the trail of a warbling songbird. Lately, there was a sort of sadness around Tatsumi. He was always happy when Tsuzuki spoke to him, laughed with him, told him about the day...but at other times, when he'd only just arrived or caught Tatsumi unexpectedly, it was always there. It was as if Tatsumi never smiled when Tsuzuki left. It was there right now, though even Tatsumi didn't seem to realize the fact.

Gathering up his courage, Tsuzuki leaned over, taking hold of Tatsumi's reins. He pulled them to a stop in the middle of a well-lit glade, ignoring the questioning look on his companion's face. "Why?" he said softly, trying to find the right words. "Why are you so sad all the time? I did something wrong again, didn't I?"

"What?" The surprise on Tatsumi's face was genuine.

"You look off in the distance...like you're waiting for something..." Tsuzuki elaborated, trying to explain. It was just there, all the time, that _look_. "Like something's making you want to cry." He'd never really seen Tatsumi cry, he realized suddenly. Not awake, at any rate.

Tatsumi's eyes widened in recognition. The ghost of a smile appeared on his face. He looked lost, for a moment, then smiled again. "It's nothing, Tsuzuki. Just the wandering thoughts of an old man."

"Old?" Tsuzuki scrunched his nose. "You're not old at all, Tatsumi! I'm older than you are, anyway!"

Tatsumi just kept smiling. Mentally, he berated himself for letting his thoughts wander so long and so far. He'd only been thinking about how much Tsuzuki had changed since they first rode the path. That led to him contemplating Tsuzuki's expression, which led him to gaze for far too long at Tsuzuki's face...and to thoughts that he should have left alone. It seemed that the happier he became just being with his prince, the harder it was to forget the other sort of happiness he harbored for the boy. It was just that every time he looked into those pure, innocent eyes he felt like a criminal, trying to steal a precious treasure. He knew he'd never hurt the boy—he'd take his own life before even thinking such things—but he couldn't shake the feeling. So he was content to let his dreams stay firmly in his mind.

"So what were you thinking about?"

Tatsumi almost grimaced. He'd been hoping to distract Tsuzuki from his questions, but the boy wasn't so easily deterred. Impulsively, without thinking, the truth fell from his lips. "You," he said simply. It seemed he'd only managed to distract himself from his thoughts...

Tsuzuki blinked. "Me?" he said questioningly. He burst into a smile. "What were you thinking about me?" His sweet voice grew sweeter.

"Oh, nothing," Tatsumi replied, his voice light and playful.

Tsuzuki frowned suddenly. "But why would thinking about me make you sad?" he said, his voice just above a whisper.

"Because being with you makes me so happy." His voice betrayed him again.

Tsuzuki said a soft, "Oh," and nodded as if he understood. Not a moment later, he shook his head. "Tatsumi, that doesn't make any sense at all!!!" he whined pitifully.

Tatsumi just shook his head and closed his mouth. He was not going to let anything else slip, on this trip or any time afterwards. He stirred his horse on, leaving Tsuzuki to pout and hurry to catch up.

* * *

Tsuzuki frowned a lot lately. It was their second day of travel.All he wanted was to know why Tatsumi was avoiding him, why he looked so sad and lonely. He didn't understand, and the curiosity was killing him. He had resolved, as he lay awake the night before, to pester Tatsumi endlessly until he found out what was wrong.

It wasn't working.

Tsuzuki was positive, now, that he'd done something wrong. He'd stopped ignoring Tatsumi, hadn't he? He knew he'd really hurt Tatsumi with his misguided attempts at being strong; he'd hurt himself every bit as badly. But they'd made up. Everything went back to normal, like it had never happened. Well...Tatsumi had been more affectionate towards him, and he was more independent, but...but... Oh, he had to have done something!

He gripped the reins more tightly. It...it couldn't be that... The white handkerchief rustled along his wrist. He never took it off if he could avoid it. Covering up that blackness with Tatsumi's affection soothed his mind and his heart. What if...

"Asato?"

Tsuzuki was close to tears, and he didn't even realize it.

"Asato? Are you alright?"

There were so many reasons... Why hadn't he seen...?

"Asato!" Tatsumi leaned over and grabbed Tsuzuki by the wrist, his hands holding fast around the pale fabric. He jumped gently off of his beast, holding tightly to the soft flesh.

"What is it?!" Tsuzuki shouted finally, salty tears stinging his eyes. "Seiichirou, just tell me what I did to hurt you so much!"

Quite abruptly, he found himself falling. But the alarming sensation faded quickly as his feet lightly touched the ground. Tatsumi was holding him, so tight he could hardly move.

"Asato...Asato, listen to me!" He whispered fiercely into the younger man's ear. "You didn't do anything wrong, I swear to you."

"Then why? Why do you look at me like that?" Tsuzuki cried out just as roughly, his voice hoarse and thick.

"Because I love you, Asato."

Tears stopped as the young prince realized that Tatsumi didn't hate him, but the relief faded quickly, replaced with confusion. Tatsumi kept talking, warm puffs of air against Tsuzuki's ear and cheek, but he wasn't listening. Something felt very wrong. The way he said the words, so full of emotion... Oh, God...

"Asato?" Tatsumi paused again, his eyes unsure. Tsuzuki had never seen him like that before. A stab of pain shot through him. It would only be harder...

Tsuzuki swallowed audibly. "Sei...Seiichirou..." he whispered. His voice stopped working properly. "...I...I..." He was almost trembling. It was so hard to say the words...but Tatsumi's reassuring smile, still tinged with sadness, gave him courage. "I know...it's important but..." Helplessly, he looked straight into those soft blue eyes, finding some sort of comfort in their depths. "I don't understand."

The look on Seiichirou's face was, for a moment, something like shock, or horror. He burst out laughing, but it was harsh and cold laughter.

Tsuzuki stared at him, surprised by the reaction. "Please...Seiichirou," he said as seriously as he could. "Explain...? Tell me, please."

Still chuckling, Tatsumi's expression changed into something like pain. "It's all I deserve," he mumbled, half to himself. "He doesn't even understand..."

"Seiichirou!" Tsuzuki snapped, angry and embarrassed. "I want to know! Tell me, please..."

"You can't!" Tatsumi snapped back instinctively. "You can't just explain 'love,' Tsuzuki!"

"But I want to know!" Fighting to old back his sobs, Tsuzuki's mind broke, and poured out all the pain, everything he wanted to hide so badly. "I don't know anything! All I knew was cold stone and an empty bed and loneliness until hated it so much I wanted to die! You know what I did, Tatsumi!" In the heat of his anger, he tore off the delicate white handkerchief, exposing the jagged red scars of his wrist. "And now I find out that I'm causing the only friend I have to suffer, and I can't even figure out how to stop it because I don't know anything!" The hot tears were pouring out, flooding his face and his mind. "I hate this. I hate myself! Why did you even bring me here, Tatsumi! You are a devil, for not letting me die in peace!"

Tsuzuki fell to his knees, desperately wrapping his arms around himself. How much he hurt...how terrible he felt... He'd tried so hard to forget...and Tatsumi was so kind that he almost could.

"Oh, Tsuzuki..." The briefest, barest whisper before he was taken again into a haven of strength and warmth. "Tsuzuki..." There were no words. In the depths of his heart, he felt neither anger nor sorrow. No...he was so sure now. He'd never loved Tsuzuki more than in this instant—not when he first saw him, or when he first smiled, or even that beautiful time when they'd realized how much they truly needed each other. "A...Asato," he whispered, seeking some familiar ground between them. Tsuzuki made a soft sort of moan, but buried his face deeper into Tatsumi's shirt. "I can...I can try to explain...if you want me to..."

Those bright violet eyes caught his. Tsuzuki was shaking, shivering in his arms, and he held him close, tighter. He opened his mouth, but his voice had deserted him. "...p...pl..." he struggled. "Please?" The hope in his voice was sweeter than any sin.

"Mmmm," Tatsumi murmured. Emotions were such terrible things, he mused silently. Terrible in a way, wonderful in a way, and such trouble. He had no doubt that Tsuzuki was telling him the truth, but the task was so monumental. It had been hard enough to merely say the words, but to have them fall on deaf ears... It nearly broke his heart.

"Love is..." How to start, how to explain, he knew not. Pausing, he tried to find some sort of meaning in the feelings he had for the younger boy. "...so wonderful," he finished lamely. "It's what I feel whenever I'm with you...holding you...talking to you..." He paused again. Anything was easier than this task, even saying the precious, secret words a thousand times over. "Everything is different when you're with them. It's so wonderful and yet...so scary..." The violet eyes peering up at him, red-rimmed and still a little frightened, comforted him.

"It's like...when you're with that person you... It's like the grass is greener or the light shines brighter...and the music is so much more melodious."

He stared into those sweet eyes, finally finding an anchor, something to keep him steady.

"It makes you happier than anything in the world to see them smile and laugh...and sadder when you see them cry... It wounds you, deep in your heart, to see them hurt even a little bit..."

He _struggled_, finally understanding the true meaning of the word. Those sweet, owl-like eyes urged him on, spellbound and glassy, listening with more than his ears.

"And all that matters in the world is..."

Those sweet lips, suddenly so close...slender limbs entwined in his...his warmth, his scent...and the wide, so innocent eyes...

Tatsumi gasped, as if his breath had left him, and forcefully turned away. His stomach clenched painfully. He would have...he wanted to...but he just couldn't. Not until he knew Tsuzuki understood. Not until he knew, in his heart, that Tsuzuki truly loved him back.

Tsuzuki was almost motionless, but he finally shook his head. "I...I need to think about this," he said softly, pushing himself abruptly to his feet.

Tatsumi nodded, trying to catch his own breath. He knew how close he'd been to doing something he knew he'd regret, and it frightened him. Despite that, he couldn't help but let out a small smile as Tsuzuki wandered clumsily to the shade of a large, old tree. He loved the boy so much that he didn't even care anymore. Even if the words failed him, he knew in his heart that he could show his Asato love in a way no one else ever could.

* * *

Tsuzuki watched as Tatsumi clumsily pulled the horses into a nearby field, tying them up securely. He virtually collapsed under a tree at the edge of the field. He lay still for so long on the dark, damp earth that Tsuzuki was sure he'd fallen asleep. He wasn't surprised; he felt the same urge himself. So many...things were floating around in his mind.

He looked around, trying to make sense of what he'd heard, what he'd felt so strongly in Tatsumi's words. The grass...greener? He'd never really seen grass until Tatsumi took him outside. He'd never even thought to see what the color was, or how it changed, if it even changed at all. The light? The sun was starting to set, and it was getting darker. Tsuzuki wanted to do something, anything, to alleviate the pain he felt. He knew, in his heart, that the word meant _something_, something he had to know. He was equally sure that Tatsumi really couldn't explain it to him. Tatsumi...

He was still laying there, his long legs crossed, his face buried in his arms. Tsuzuki remembered the day they'd met—it was the last time he'd ever seen Tatsumi so peaceful. His memory was blurry, but he definitely could see Tatsumi's face. The startled, pained, yet smiling face. The warmth he'd never known from his own thin body. The feeling of the rough material of the coat, pressing his own silken shirt deeper into his skin. The first soft tones of his voice, urging him not to cry, but to walk again. And...

It seemed to him that his first memories were different. It was as if something more had happened that he couldn't recall. He remembered the almost overpowering warmth of Tatsumi's body, the strange depth of his voice, the immediate acceptance into open arms. It felt so normal, as if he'd been meant to be there. Being with Tatsumi...no, the mere thought of him made him feel happy and warm, because he always knew that, soon, they'd be together and the feelings would be real.

Tsuzuki groaned aloud, his mind tied into knots. He opened the eyes he hadn't even realized he's closed. The change startled him. It was already dark, and a large, pale moon filled the sky. Had he fallen asleep too? The moon was so bright, brighter than the sunlight, even. It cast its silvery radiance on the dark grass, alighting with tiny bits of dew to produce glimmering green jewels.

It looked like Tatsumi slept on a bed of emeralds. The moonlight lit up his prone body, made it glow, faintly. A soft gasp tore its way out of Tsuzuki's throat, and he suddenly felt... He didn't know what he felt. Tatsumi looked so beautiful...just like a beautiful doll, or a sculpture...

Tsuzuki's eyes widened. This...this was exactly what Tatsumi had said it was like! The grass was such a brilliant green, and the light was so very, very bright, despite the midnight blackness. "Tatsumi..." he whispered, like a desperate prayer. He moved more quickly than he'd ever imagined. Tatsumi made a soft noise in his sleep, like a sigh mixed with a sob. He shivered, just a little.

Tatsumi was right. It was so hard to explain this...this wonderful feeling welling up inside him. He wanted Tatsumi so much. More than those sweet cakes the baker made, or that really big icecream sundae that he had to save up lots of money to buy, or... Tatsumi shivered again, and it was much more obvious. Tsuzuki laid himself out next to the older man, frowning as he realized he was too small to hold all of him. Tsuzuki snuggled up as close as he could, and he shivered too, finally realizing how cold it was. He looked up into his love's face, and he remembered. For the first time, he recalled what had truly woken him from his sleep.

The gentle, sweet touch...so much more intimate and knowing than he'd ever felt in his life...

The touch that spoke of knowing everything, without even meeting...

The warmth that filled his heart, ablaze in the body of another, and channeled, with barely cloaked intensity, into a brief, bare touch...

With infinite tenderness, the prince leaned up and gave his first kiss to the sleeping man, trying to recreate the instant that had been enough to bring him back from death. Tatsumi was sweeter than chocolate, he thought to himself, smiling as he felt the sleepy response to his kiss. His own weariness suddenly overtook him.

The world blurred, suddenly filled with white light. Tsuzuki blinked away the soft tears, the first tears of happiness he'd ever shed.

* * *

Tsuzuki awoke with the sun high in the sky, held tightly against a warm body and bouncing ever so slightly from the rhythmic gallop of the horse beneath him.

"Awake at last..." Tatsumi whispered in his ear.

"Yeah," Tsuzuki said softly, his voice rough with sleep. "Seiichirou," he said, smiling at the warmth of his love's name. Smiling brightly, he leaned up and stole a quick kiss from Tatsumi's sweeter-than-sweet lips.

Pulling back, he noticed that they'd stopped completely. That, and Tatsumi looked like he was about to fall off their horse. Tsuzuki grabbed him firmly around the waist, looking at his companion with concern. "Sei..." he began, when Tatsumi unexpectedly pulled him close and kissed him back. Tsuzuki melted, more than a little happily, like an ice cream sundae in the face of the summer sun.

The kiss ended much too abruptly. "You're...sure?" Tatsumi whispered, the slightest hint of fear in his voice. Tsuzuki smiled, feeling as if he'd never stop. Tatsumi's voice reminded him of a bird, trembling prettily.

"I love you, Tatsumi," he whispered, hoping he was saying the words right, for once. Tatsumi's expression didn't change. "I..." Tsuzuki's voice wavered. "I love you more than those sweet cakes the baker makes!" he blurted out, his mind trying desperately to find the right words. Oh... he did really love those cakes, especially since Tatsumi had to get up _so_ early to get one for him. But he loved Tatsumi much more, he decided.

"And more than those huge ice cream desserts in the summer!" he tried again. That was true, too. He'd...he'd be hot all summer if Tatsumi would just...understand. If he could make Tatsumi feel the way he was feeling now, he'd...

"I'd...I'd give up eating sweets for you, Tatsumi!" he said desperately.

Tatsumi's eyes narrowed a bit. "Would you...?" he said, in a voice so soft the wind himself could carry it away effortlessly.

"Really!" Tsuzuki nodded his head 'til he was dizzy. "I...I would..."

Tatsumi pulled him close, startling the younger boy. "But I don't want you too, Asato," he murmured, the words warm against his ears. "I love you too. I want you to be happy."

Tsuzuki blinked. His eyelashes were long, and they fluttered cutely whenever he blinked in just that way. Tsuzuki was so...precious, Tatsumi thought to himself. He leaned down to capture those soft, sweet lips again, silencing Tsuzuki's questions. Tatsumi's hand grasped his own, sliding down to the slender wrist. He somehow undid the small knot, and the makeshift bandage fluttered down to the ground. He unwillingly broke their kiss, raising the slender limb to his face. Before Tsuzuki's hazy eyes, too stunned to object, he kissed the scarred, rough skin tenderly. He hated the scars, in his own way, as much as Tsuzuki did, but he loved the boy far too much to care about the past.

Tsuzuki gasped, and when Tatsumi realized the reason, he couldn't help but smile. The pure, snow-white flesh before him looked as if it had never been hurt at all. The wide-eyed look Tsuzuki was giving him made it evident that he thought it was Tatsumi's doing. But deep in his heart, Tatsumi knew that it was really Tsuzuki's own strength that had, finally, overcome the ghost of his past. He whispered, gently, "Now you'll never need to go searching for angels again."

Violet eyes lit up, fire-bright. He understood. "No, never..." he whispered back, leaning into the warm embrace waiting for him. "Not when I already have such a wonderful angel waiting right here."

The sun shone brightly on the entwined pair, the road ahead long and bright after the darkness of the night...

* * *

Hope everyone like this second part! Sorry for being so late, my dear readers. Please send all complaints to the school district of Stockton, CA, for filling my life with so much homework. ;) 


	3. Part 3

Yami no Matsuei fairy tale, part 3

By Sakura no Miko

Summary: This is yet another chapter of an odd little idea that popped into my head. It's a continuation of my "Sleeping Beauty" with Yami no Matsuei characters, mostly concerning Tatsumi's past.

Disclaimer: Anyone who thinks I own Yami no Matsuei, or would make a profit off of it, needs to see a doctor. Quickly.

Warnings: This is…an extended epilogue of my dark fairy tale, following even more of Tsuzuki and Tatsumi's relationship. I was hoping this part would be less dark, but a few ideas crept in… Again, there's shounen ai/yaoi/'hot guys doing hot things to each other,' of the Tatsumi/Tsuzuki variety.

Finally: How did I let myself get talked into this? I must be getting soft from all the wonderful reviews. So, I'm going to conveniently forget that part 2 was supposed to be the epilogue (it kinda…grew), and give it another shot. I'll honor your requests for answers, continuation, and more Tat/Tsu fluffiness!

I have at least two—count 'em, two chapters—coming up (this one and a fourth, maybe even a fifth). I will finally reveal the horrible, terrifying truth of Tatsumi's past! However, I must give one warning: The hard part with writing up Tatsumi's past, at least as I've conceived it, is making it fit with the original characterization I gave him in parts 1 and 2. sighs I meant this to be a simple, normal fairy tale…

Oh, and one last thing—as will become apparent later, neither Tsuzuki nor Tatsumi really know about Tsuzuki's past, or why he ended up in the tower in the first place.

* * *

* * *

And so a happy ending was reached, at least for those concerned. Asato Tsuzuki, the once-prince of Chikyuu, was freed from his cursed sleep, his tormenter and torment finally laid to rest, for, with Muraki destroyed and Tsuzuki's own darkness turned to light, he was freer and happier than ever before in his life.

Both developments came from the simple but strong hand of Seiichirou Tatsumi, a man sworn to the duties of Meifuu under the service of his Count. It was here that he and his companion-turned-beloved, Tsuzuki, were now returning.

Which would mean, certainly, that their tale is done. If only life were so simple. For you see, though the future may be assured, the ghosts of the past never rest…

* * *

The sun shone brighter than ever, it seemed. And was it him, or had the woodlands grown lusher? The water seemed so clear, so crisp to his lips, and the soft bit of the apple Tatsumi had picked easily from a tree was sweeter than he'd ever known such fruit to taste.

Of course, that last bit might have been because of the sweet kiss Tatsumi had drawn him into as they shared the apple. Tsuzuki had decided resolutely that Tatsumi was the best taste in the world, so of course a Tatsumi-flavored apple would taste better than a plain one. Tsuzuki nodded to himself as he pieced the changes together. They were an entire day behind….through no fault of their own, of course. It was just too easy to find distractions on this particular pathway.

There was, of course, the little waterfall, tucked neatly away in the deep of the forest, where they'd stopped for a drink. The water was so cool and clean, not quite large enough to swim in, but perfect to splash, just a little.

Then the cliff, as they began to head more into the valley country. There was such a wonderful view, and Tatsumi had sworn that they could see the smoke rising from Meifuu from it. Tsuzuki did see _something_ dark, but when he tried to get closer, he slipped…a little. Tatsumi had caught him, like he always did, and he hadn't been that close to the edge anyway. He couldn't help it that Tatsumi wouldn't let go, or that he didn't feel particularly inclined to move.

Oh, and there was the little lengthening of their rests. All the strange sounds and sights didn't help Tsuzuki sleep. Tatsumi would stay up with him until he finally drifted off into the welcoming shadows of deep sleep, and by morning—having already slept in far longer than needed—he was reluctant to give up his hard-earned, and very comfortable, resting place. Since he'd also decided that Tatsumi's lap was the most comfortable resting place in the world, and Tatsumi had apparently decided that he was the best thing in the world to have in his lap, they tended to start out a bit later than usual.

They were really just little delays. Things that might make you arrive after dark, perhaps as the stars began to peek out, instead of at suppertime. It must have taken _dozens_ of these distractions to make them miss an entire day. Tsuzuki tried to remember exactly how many times they stopped, but he only succeeded in making himself feel a bit too warm, and a little dizzy. He gripped the reins a little too tightly, though the beast beneath him paid no heed.

His eyes drifted in Tatsumi's direction, and he felt very, very warm suddenly. A smile filled up Tsuzuki's face. Well, they were already late. One more little stop couldn't hurt, now could it?

* * *

The night was strangely black. It was new moon already. The only steady sound Tatsumi could hear was the soft, steady breathing of his companion, who had, as usual, snuggled up close, using Tatsumi's cloak as a blanket. Tatsumi smiled, remembering Tsuzuki's sweet sigh as he buried himself into Tatsumi's arms, pinned with gentlest care between a warm body and cloak. He really loved Tatsumi's cloak, though it was far too large for his small frame. It was as if he was a child, play-acting in his father's clothes. Utterly adorable, Tatsumi thought.

He absently stroked Tsuzuki's hair. Despite how calm he seemed, he was nervous. It was one thing to be two unknown men, in a secluded inn room, in a faraway kingdom. It was another thing entirely to be returning home. It was silly. What did he have to be nervous about? And yet…

'Mother…' he whispered in his mind. What would she say? She'd been so kind to him, taking him into her home after…after… He still didn't want to think about it. She'd been old then, and was even older now. To take in such a young, frightened boy… He truly admired his adoptive mother, for that. She was already widowed, childless, and…she must have wondered it, just like everyone else.

Why he'd survived that night, when all the rest of his family died.

But she never asked, and whenever the crueler neighbors had questioned him, she rushed to his defense. She was never frightened of him, not even when he showed her the shadows. She was the one who held him as he explained, for the first time, all the guilt and pain he kept within him. She never flinched when he hurt her…or when she was hurt for him.

She was the only person who ever made him happy.

"Seiichirou…? Why're you…still awake?" Tsuzuki blinked sleepily up at him, as if he could sense the sudden outburst of dark thoughts.

"I…" Tatsumi paused. He wanted…but it hurt so much…

"S-sei…you're…" Tsuzuki's voice faltered. The soft hand was hesitant, reaching up to caress a cheek, then more sure as it encountered something wet and warm. "Seiichirou, what's wrong? You're crying…" The boy let out a soft yelp as he was dragged into a tight embrace. He found his bearings quickly, and wrapped his arms clumsily around the older man. "Oh, Sei," he murmured, knowing all-too-well the signs of pain. His mind strained to remember all the little things, the sweet touches and words that had led him back from his own darkness.

Tatsumi hadn't even realized that a few tears had escaped him. The sudden urge to just stay there, crying, almost overwhelmed him. Tsuzuki pulled him close, stroking his hair and cooing to him softly, as if he were a child. A brief shock wracked Tatsumi's mind as he realized that he'd always treated Tsuzuki in the exact same way. Like a child. Did Tsuzuki always feel so weak, so helpless as Tatsumi was feeling now? How could he stand it?

And yet it felt so good, so terribly good. The warmth, the overwhelming sense of being taken care of, of not being needed to do anything but accept…was overpowering, unstoppable bliss. A wave of joy, a wave of guilt, crashing into each other like tidal wave. And Tsuzuki just cradled him tighter, his words softer, quicker, more soothing to Tatsumi's guilt-ridden mind.

He'd thought of the past—thought of it every waking moment—full of guilt and pain and vengeance. It had settled from pain to a dull whisper in the back of his mind, a whisper he had all but forgotten this past year. Forgotten…? How…how could he have forgotten? He clung—yes, _clung_, as if his life depended on it—to his love's slender frame, trying to speak, to explain himself.

"Seiichirou," he heard. "Shh, Seiichirou, just…just calm down. I'm here. It's alright." Those slender, quick fingers, tangled in his hair, so painfully familiar. Tsuzuki's face seemed to shift, from his own sympathetic violet eyes, to the sweet blue eyes of his mother…and, to his horror…the slightest flash of silver between them.

His chest tightened. No, no, his mind moaned. He was over this, it didn't affect him anymore… "Tsuzuki!" he burst out, but it was only a whisper. No, not him. Not that time. No, no, he was here, with Tsuzuki, here and now and…safe. "Tsuzuki… Tsuzuki…" he murmured, the sudden panic ebbing. His breaths were deep, harsh. He felt hot, sweat coursing down his temple. A waking nightmare.

He realized that Tsuzuki was still holding him. The boy's breaths were as heavy as his own. His eyes fluttered, like he was only just waking up, but they settled on Tatsumi's face with a startling intensity and clarity. Tatsumi opened his mouth, to explain, to try to…to…but Tsuzuki smiled as if nothing were wrong. "If you want to talk…" he whispered softly, offering Tatsumi his shoulder. 'Or if you want silence,' he added wordlessly with the action.

"Someday," Tatsumi heard himself say, as he leaned forward. Ah, Tsuzuki was so sweet, so soft and yielding. He broke away much more quickly then he wanted to. "I promise," he said, to himself and to Tsuzuki. He'd have to tell Tsuzuki someday; there shouldn't be any secrets between them, not when they were so close, but… He'd never even let himself touch the memories. He had to control himself, he had to.

"Can you sleep?" Tsuzuki's voice again, so sweet. He brushed the hair from Tatsumi's face. "We need to sleep. I'll hold you, Seiichirou." He blushed ever so slightly. "If you want me to."

"I…" His voice failed him again. "I think…." Surrendering, Tatsumi wordlessly drew Tsuzuki into his arms. "Like this…please…" Tatsumi cringed at the weakness in his voice, but he was already feeling better with Tsuzuki's soft body cradled against his chest. The prince nodded, and almost immediately went back into slumber. Tatsumi wiped the few tears left from his eyes and tucked his face into Tsuzuki's shoulder, breathing deeply, feeling the weight of the smaller form and the familiar warmth before drifting into a strangely peaceful sleep.

* * *

Tsuzuki awoke early, a rarity for him. He tried not to move too much, realizing that Tatsumi was still asleep. It was no surprise, really. Tsuzuki remembered, suddenly, a long-ago night when he had awoke to the pitiful sobs of a dreamer stuck in a terrible nightmare. He'd never questioned that Tatsumi had some sort of pain in his past. There were…signs, little things that stuck in his mind. Things that reminded him of himself.

He was ashamed to admit it, but…he actually enjoyed it, somewhat. Not that Tatsumi was hurting—and he was definitely hurting over something—but that he was showing himself in such a...a vulnerable way. Tsuzuki truthfully admitted to himself that he felt a strange longing as he held Tatsumi for the first time. He wanted to pull out all of Tatsumi's pain and sadness and take it into himself instead. He wanted to do all the little things that would make Tatsumi feel warm and safe with him, because it made him feel warm and safe too. His heart ached in sympathy when he saw Tatsumi's tears—ached in a way he'd never felt before.

Words couldn't convey it… Could it have been only days ago that he was trying to understand Tatsumi's slow, stumbling voice explain this emotion to him? It felt like a lifetime ago.

The thick beat of Tatsumi's heart felt wonderful to his ears. Tatsumi was so strong—his breathing, his heart, his arms. His newfound weakness made him seem suddenly fragile, suddenly so small and needy. Tsuzuki found himself questioning his own strength. He couldn't even handle his own problems—how could he ever help Tatsumi? An unwanted memory of his own method of 'dealing' flashed in his mind—that strange voice, urging him to use the beautiful, broken vase for some other, darker purpose. He wanted to stop, cried against his own body, against the past he couldn't change, but the shard moved closer and closer to his pale, tender skin and—!

It wasn't his own face he saw in the shard's reflection, but Tatsumi's.

He let out a soft yelp. 'No, no, no!' his mind screamed. Almost bitterly, he made himself remember that Tatsumi would never do such a thing. Tatsumi had so many friends, and he had a loving family back home—he had things to return to. He would never, ever… What could he ever know about being all alone, about being hated by everyone, hopeless, worthless…?

Tsuzuki stopped the train of thought. That wasn't true anymore. Tatsumi had told him so, over and over again, with words and actions and just being there. He sighed, smiling again. He loved Tatsumi so much. Tatsumi was warm and happy and strong, even when he was thinking of terrible things.

Oh… Tsuzuki blinked. The sun was up already. As much as he loved just laying there, he was really starting to want to see Tatsumi's home. He gently poked his love in the ribs. Ah, Tatsumi was so peaceful; it was a shame to disturb him. If he hadn't seen Tatsumi's state last night, he'd have never known anything was wrong. Another poke. Tatsumi groaned a little, his eyes opening, and quickly shutting.

"Good morning, Seiichirou!" Tsuzuki beamed. He affectionately kissed Tatsumi on the mouth, an action he found Tatsumi enjoyed very much. Tatsumi, strangely enough, wasn't much of a morning person until he'd had something to drink. Tsuzuki was always forgetting what it was called. He didn't like the bitter stuff, so he ignored it completely. "I want to see your home," he murmured, pulling back. "We're almost there, right?"

"Yes," Tatsumi said, a little too quietly. Tsuzuki looked at him with concern, suddenly. It was the same look he'd seen the night before. He shook his head faintly. "Soon, Tsuzuki, I promise."

The words from the previous evening resonated in Tsuzuki's head as he took in Tatsumi's reply. He nodded. Four simple words were all that remained of the raw emotion that Tatsumi had shown him, emotions that Tsuzuki hadn't even known he possessed.

* * *

Tatsumi was positive that smiling for as long as he had must have some type of permanent effect on his face. Tsuzuki was practically floating as he looked at all the different houses and buildings. Compared to Tenkuu, Meifuu was practically two kingdoms. It was also far busier. Meifuu was the heart of the world, or so it often seemed. Tatsumi found the mixture of peoples and cultures to be jarring, but Tsuzuki was trying to leap in every direction at once—a strange new food here, an exotically-garbed group of travelers there, and farther still, the remains of an old and still magnificent building.

Finally, Tatsumi leaned over and took Tsuzuki's hand with him, gently but firmly leading him towards the outskirts of the town. He caught sight of the Count's home and winced slightly. There was going to be so much work when he returned! Seiichirou Tatsumi, who had never taken a day of vacation in his entire career, suddenly disappearing for an entire year! What would his colleagues say?

His eyes swept over the road before them. Only a year, but there were already changes. He certainly didn't remember having so many houses in this area before. The noise was…distasteful, to say the least. On the other hand, perhaps it was better to not be so secluded anymore, especially with his mother gaining more years. 'Ah, there it is,' his mind reminded him softly. Some things would never change.

"Asato—do you see the house over there?" Pointing directly ahead, Tatsumi guided his prince's eyes to a small cottage, crafted of grey stone and wood. It was nowhere near the splendor of the great Castle of Chikyuu, nor was it small enough to be cramped for a family. All around it were flowers and trees, and a little pond to the side. It seemed as if everything was in bloom, in some shape or form, some bright color or sweet scent. As if to make the dwelling absolutely perfect, it was planted firmly upon the last bit of level land before the land sloped down to the sea, giving it the stunning background of the sunlit ocean.

"It…it's beautiful," Tsuzuki said softly. "Whose home is it…?

"My mother lives here now," Tatsumi said softly. "The house…my family used to come here for the summer."

Tsuzuki suddenly sniffed at the air. "I'm so hungry!" he moaned pitifully, making puppy eyes at Tatsumi.

"Don't worry. My mother is an excellent cook."

"That makes me even hungrier!"

Tatsumi chuckled, stepping to the ground lightly. He extended a hand to help his prince down, and suddenly found himself with an armful of a very happy, very energetic Tsuzuki. Before he could blink, he was on the receiving end of a warm, soft Tsuzuki-kiss. The simple, yet truly affectionate gesture filled him with so many feelings—strength and hope, warmth and peace, and the understanding, deep in his heart, that everything would be right in the end.

"Seiichirou…"

'That…was not Asato's voice,' was the first thing Tatsumi thought. No, that sweet, feminine, and overly calm voice was one he would have recognized anywhere. And yet, for as much as he had wanted to see her…Tatsumi would really have not chosen this particular moment to see his mother again.

* * *

Tsuzuki felt Tatsumi stiffen when that voice called out his name. His response, first and foremost, was to blink. Once he was sure that he had heard a voice—you really couldn't tell, with all the shouting and animals and stuff around—he slowly peeked out from Tatsumi's arms, and his eyes fell on a petite, older woman with white hair and…bluish-grey eyes. Tsuzuki blinked again. He'd never seen eyes quite like that. They were sort of…dull.

His second response was a startlingly heavy wave of jealousy. She called him Seiichirou. No one else had ever dared to do such an act in his presence! He wanted to pout. Only he could call Tatsumi by his first name.

But his third reaction manages to cancel those instincts out completely. His third, and final, reaction was to blush uncontrollably, because….

"Mother," Tatsumi said tenderly, unceremoniously dropping Tsuzuki to the dirt. Well, that was somewhat his fault. Tsuzuki always found it hard to stand when he was melting into Tatsumi's arms, and he wasn't quite prepared to lose his warm support. Besides, he was currently stunned by the revelation that he was in the presence of Tatsumi's mother. And he was still a little jealous, especially when he heard Tatsumi's tone. Tatsumi only spoke to him like that. Tatsumi only used that warm, sweet voice with him! Tsuzuki really, truly wanted to pout.

"Mother, I'm sorry I've been gone so long." Now he was hugging her! Still, for a moment Tsuzuki was touched. She looked so small when Tatsumi hugged her, and so fragile. Tatsumi's mother was…kinda pretty, he conceded.

"You know I don't mind, Seiichirou," she said, smiling. "Ah, but who is your…companion?" The woman extended her hand in Tsuzuki's direction. There was something really strange about her eyes. Tsuzuki frowned, but hid it quickly. He was being rude. He gently shook her hand, surprised again by how light she seemed.

Tatsumi smiled, and Tsuzuki suddenly felt calm. "His name is Asato, Mother. Asato Tsuzuki." Tsuzuki didn't miss the affectionate note in Tatsumi's voice as he said his name. "And I would say he is more than a…'companion,' as I'm sure you know."

Tsuzuki stared as Tatsumi and his mother began to chuckle together. "There now, don't be so shy," Tatsumi's mother said gently, patting the top of Tsuzuki's hand. "My name is Ruriko. We have something in common, you and I—we're both far too attached to this stubborn fool here."

Tsuzuki couldn't hold back the fit of giggles that escaped him. He managed a quick "Sorry" to Tatsumi before collapsing into a second bout of laughter. Tatsumi wrapped an arm around him, pulling the giggling princeling close to him, and used his other arm to take hold of his mother's hand. Sighing gently, he brought both of his loved ones into the house.

* * *

Tatsumi finished the last of dinner with relish. There was nothing so good to be found anywhere as his mother's cooking. Tsuzuki had managed to eat his fill, and was now curled up against Tatsumi's shoulder, making soft, contented sleep-sounds every so often. They were sitting on a couch, and the fire was sparkling brightly. His mother had ushered them out of the kitchen while she cleaned up, despite Tatsumi's protests.

"Mother…" Tatsumi began to say as she entered the room. There were so many things he wanted to say, but none of them would form into words.

"He has a beautiful aura, Seiichirou," Ruriko murmured, leaning down to kiss Tatsumi on the forehead. She deftly pulled a chair up so she could sit and face her son. Her smile was still gentle as he remembered it to be. "You took my advice, for once. I told you to go back, and find what you were looking for."

"And I'm so happy I did," Tatsumi replied softly. He didn't want to wake Tsuzuki up, but he also found it hard to…to be so open, so loud about himself and his feelings. Whispers made it seem safer, somehow.

"Yours has changed, too."

Such a simple statement, yet it rocked Tatsumi to his core. Yet the shock was only momentary, and logic took its place. He'd heard the words before, when he was a child. He remembered, so clearly, when this strange—or so she'd seem to his childish self— woman before him had said that she understood he was in pain, that she could see it radiating from him. Her eyes had been so blue back then…before…

"Don't think such bad thoughts, Seiichirou. It hurts to watch."

"Your powers haven't waned, then," he said finally, after a moment of silence.

"No, they haven't. I never needed my eyes to see before. My powers have actually grown stronger since I—"

"Don't!" Tatsumi found himself raising his voice without thought.

"Don't what?" Ruriko could be severe, if she wanted. She'd heard her son turn away before, and it frustrated her to no end. But that wasn't the way to deal with him. "These auras have always been a part of my world, always my second sight. Why does it matter, now that they are my only sight?"

"Mother…"

She could see his pain, feel it, taste it. "Why do you blame every wrong of the world on yourself? You couldn't have stopped him, anymore than—"

"Mother!" Tatsumi's voice was sharp, almost painful to hear. "You taught me not to blame myself for things I couldn't control. But this…this one thing…this _was_ my fault, and you know it. Even if it were your dying wish, I could not give up my guilt for letting him hurt you. He took away your sight, Mother, and you want me to not feel anything?"

Tsuzuki moaned fretfully in his sleep, but didn't wake. Tatsumi took the opportunity to turn away, and he smoothed back Tsuzuki's hair. 'Sorry,' he said in his mind, wondering if Tsuzuki could sense his apology.

"It is very beautiful," Ruriko said softly. There was simply no use. No matter how hard she prayed, or how many times she asked, he simply would not listen to her.

"I know," Tatsumi murmured without thinking.

"Do you remember what your aura looks like, Seiichirou?"

Tatsumi nodded, never taking his eyes from Tsuzuki's sleeping form. "When we first met, you said it was like a tempest, a black storm swallowing me up. You called it terrifying, a nearly unbreakable mix of so many painful emotions. But later, after I started to trust you, you said it was beginning to change."

"It did. You've always had such a unique aura."

"You said…" Tatsumi paused. "You said it was like I had shadows around me, but they were warm, friendly shadows. The same shadows I could call to me. And…you used to say that…" He trailed off, frowning.

"There was a horrible wound in your chest, right at your heart," Ruriko finished gently. "Terrible scars crossed your chest, and…there was an open wound where your heart should have been."

"Yes." Why was he suddenly afraid? Even in the years long past, he'd never been frightened of what his mother saw. He, as young as he was, understood the pain that settled deep in his chest when his thoughts wandered to darker memories. The knowledge that he was injured in that most precious part of himself affected him no more than knowing the weather, or the day's lessons—it was something he expected, something he couldn't change.

"When you came back, before…you were so agitated I could hardly see anything. I saw that storm of guilt and pain returning. But I could still see you beneath it. I saw your heart, Seiichirou, changing and changing until I wasn't sure what I saw anymore." Her son's expression was surprised; worried, even. "One moment, it was as if the wound were gone—as if it had never been there! And the next, it was there again, larger and more aching than ever. And still the next, it was as if…" She broke off, her gaze falling on the sleeping form beside her son.

"As if what?" Tatsumi dared to ask. His hand had found its way to Tsuzuki's, and he grasped it almost too tightly before realizing it.

"It was as it is now." A pause; deafening silence. A small, knowing smile appeared of Ruriko's face, and she shook her head. "Have you ever seen a wound, Tatsumi, bound back together with thread?"

"Yes," Tatsumi said, wondering what his mother could possibly mean. "I have seen how a doctor can bind an open injury with a needle, just as with a torn shirt."

"Your heart looks like that now," she whispered. "Like it's been bound together by a beautiful, shining ray of light, never to be torn apart again…" She looked steadily at her son, and said, almost affectionately, "Your…companion…has such a beautiful aura. It's as if he were radiating a pure white light, like the moon." Her eyes met his. "His heart shines brightest, full of kindness and innocence and…" She paused, but, sensing Tatsumi's distress, smiled to reassure him. "Strangely enough," she said with gentle humor, "for all the light he has, his heart is full of shadows."

"And yet you still call him a mere 'companion,'" Tatsumi said with a soft smile, a feeble attempt at meeting her good-natured tease. He couldn't say anything else, couldn't put his feelings into words. He knew he loved Tsuzuki; he knew it with every breath he took, everything he knew revolving around the boy. But…to have such cold, hard proof of his deepest emotions, open to view…it was too much. It made him feel vulnerable, laid bare to be studied and examined by the world. And yet…to know, just as deeply, that Tsuzuki truly loved him…

"It is late." Ruriko's voice sounded distant. "The Count will wish to see you soon. Perhaps you could leave Tsuzuki here? I would like to get to know him better."

Tatsumi nodded mutely. He gently picked up his sleeping love, making his way to the spare room. Once Tsuzuki was safely tucked into bed, Tatsumi impulsively returned to the living room, wondering if his mother had gone to sleep yet. Instead, he found her sitting at the window, gazing peacefully out at the sea. Tatsumi knelt down next to her, the way he always had as a child.

"Such a beautiful night, isn't it, Seiichirou?" Ruriko said softly, her blind eyes staring into the distance.

"Yes," Tatsumi replied. The crescent moon threw slender beams of moonlight onto the dark ocean, the waves crashing onto the beach with almost violent intensity. The sea of Meifuu was no tranquil oasis, but a powerful, almost constantly dangerous beast. It held such beautiful power…

"You need your rest, Seiichirou," Ruriko cut in. She moved to get up, and gently refused Tatsumi's hand. "I can still take care of myself. You should go be with your…dear companion," she added gently.

"I love you, Mother," Tatsumi said, leaning down to kiss her hand. "Thank you." He turned, unconsciously hurrying back to Tsuzuki.

Ruriko watched him, and let out a soft, girlish giggle. "Such an adorable couple," she said to herself before turning in to sleep.

* * *

Tatsumi returned to the room. He remembered that, fortunately, his bed had more than enough room for two people—an extravagance that marked his family's life all those years ago. His grandfather's shrewd business plans, compounded with the booming trade market of Meifuu back in those days, had left the Tatsumi family well off, earning them respect almost equal to the Count himself. As the older aristocratic families died off, families like his had taken their place.

It was fortunate that he had come into such wealth, because it left more than enough for his mother to live on in his frequent absences. He was gone most of the year, attending to such and such business for the Count, or work to do with the family business. But, he trusted, both affairs were safe in the hands of his trusted co-workers and assistants.

He shrugged off his jacket, but decided against changing the rest of his clothes. The soft bed, warm blankets, and sleeping Tsuzuki were just too attractive. He crawled under the blankets and sighed, wrapping an arm around Tsuzuki. The smaller man wiggled for a moment before opening his eyes, blinking in the darkness.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," Tatsumi whispered.

"I was already awake," Tsuzuki said, grinning a bit. "I…I heard you and your mother talking. I didn't mean to, but…"

"It's alright," Tatsumi replied, remembering the lecture Tsuzuki had gotten from one of the older village women when he was caught eavesdropping by accident.

"Your mom…what was she talking about? Storms and wounds and…are you hurt, Seiichirou?" Tsuzuki's voice was small, frightened, a sound Tatsumi hated. "She said that your…your heart…"

Tatsumi drew the prince into a deep hug. "No, it's not like that," he consoled. How could he explain? "Mother is like us, Asato. She can do…I mean, see, things that other people can't. What Mother sees are called auras. They're…" Tatsumi paused. "I guess you could say that she can see what's inside people. She can…see their personality, how they're feeling." Tatsumi paused again, at a loss. A sudden idea struck him, and he continued, "When Mother was saying that my aura was a storm, she was talking about…about a very long time ago. I…I..."

Tsuzuki was listening attentively, trying to understand what Tatsumi was explaining to him. Ruriko could see feelings? Suddenly, he felt Tatsumi shudder, hard enough that he felt it too. "Seiichirou, it's alright," he whispered. He put his hands on Tatsumi's cheeks, looking into his very, very blue eyes. "You don't have to, if you don't want to, Seiichirou."

"I couldn't save them." Tatsumi's voice was suddenly cold, almost harsh. He shook his head, trembling. "I didn't realize…I didn't know…but I should have…:"

"Who?" Tsuzuki almost shook as Tatsumi's eyes looked back at him. "Who couldn't you save, Sei?"

"Mother…and Father…" came the reply. "Mamoru, and Takeshi, and Manimi, and Kizu, and Sana. My family."

That same look had returned to his eyes, Tsuzuki realized. The look he'd seen the night before. But… Tsuzuki struggled. Which was better, to hold him or to encourage him? He wanted to know what was wrong, how he wanted to know, but….he didn't know if Tatsumi was ready to tell him.

"I was the youngest." Tatsumi began speaking again, his eyes glassy. "Mamoru was teasing me, and he made he cry. So I ran upstairs. We had such a big house, so pretty. It was easy to hide." Tatsumi suddenly pulled Tsuzuki close to him, and everything plunged into darkness.

Tsuzuki struggled not to cry out in terror. He wanted to stay still, but a whimper escaped his lips and he began to shiver in Tatsumi's arms.

"It's alright," Tatsumi whispered. He took a gentle hold of Tsuzuki's hand, raising it up to touch the blackness. Tsuzuki was startled to feel something beneath his fingers, warm and pulsing. Tatsumi pushed his hand through the darkness, then back in. "It's just a shadow," he said into Tsuzuki's ear. "See?"

Tsuzuki took a deep breath. Without Tatsumi's help, he reached into the pitch blackness. Just a shadow, he told himself. A warm, soft shadow. It was…it was like … His mind clicked. It was like when he'd been a child, playing under the blankets to hide from the servants. He felt calm again, steady, ready to hear Tatsumi's pain.

"I used to play with them like this. I didn't understand what they were, or why they did this. It was…my escape, my secret." A short pause, and then, "I was doing this that day. I couldn't hear anything, feel anything, see anything except the shadows. I didn't know…"

Suddenly, the world—well, the bedroom, at least—came back into view. Tatsumi's voice was cold, almost dead, as he said, "There was a fire. I never knew how, or why, but…when I came out, it was so hot, and it was everywhere. I could hear…" He grabbed Tsuzuki tightly, a sob breaking out from his throat. "I heard them crying and screaming for help. My family, Asato! My mother and father and brothers and sisters! I screamed, too…and my shadows surrounded me, saving my life. When I woke up, hours later, I was laying there, in the ash and the ruins. Someone was shaking me, asking what happened, and I…"

Tsuzuki was stunned. He pulled Tatsumi against his chest, wrapping his arms around his back, holding him. He was crying. His Seiichirou was sobbing, like the frightened child he must have been. "Oh Seiichirou," he whispered. He couldn't have imagined… He held his love closer, whispering gentle, warm words into his ear.

Tatsumi began to quiet down, leaning heavily into Tsuzuki's chest. He'd shown so many emotions—despair and grief, anger and guilt—so quickly, that they were all mixed up and whirled together like a tornado.

Tsuzuki reflected back on his own childhood. All he remembered was a flurry of faces, never staying long enough for him to get to know. Everyone was desperate to get away from him. If they died, he wouldn't have cared—he wouldn't have even known. To lose someone so close—an entire family—was something he couldn't imagine, save to envision the dreadful idea of losing Tatsumi.

"Mother…" Tatsumi was whispering again, but he sounded better. "Mother was the only one who would take me in. They were terrified of me…they thought I was a demon." Tatsumi's voice dropped, and he, unable to say the thought aloud, pressed his mouth to Tsuzuki's ear. "They said I killed them." His hands were none too gentle, but Tsuzuki didn't even feel the bruises forming beneath Tatsumi's hands as he clung to him. "They never said it aloud, but their eyes…their eyes followed me, everywhere I went, crying out that it was my fault, it was all because of me. And…I couldn't do anything, because I knew it was true!"

Tsuzuki's heart ached in sympathy. He remembered—how terribly he remembered—the pain, the looks of terror in the faces of his servants, as he reached up with his childish hands to touch them. They flinched, as if burned; they turned their backs to him; their eyes held pure terror.

Tatsumi began talking again, his taking deep, pained breaths as he spoke. "Mother took care of me, even though I was never kind to her. I just wanted to be left alone. I just wanted to get away, somewhere far away, where no one would ever look at me again. Everyday that passed, I came to see, more and more, that it was my fault. If I'd…if I'd just thought…I could have saved them." There was such a dark, almost violently intense look in Tatsumi's eyes was almost unbearable, but Tsuzuki kept their eyes locked together. "I knew how to do it, Asato. I knew…I knew I could control them. If I'd only…if I hadn't been so scared…"

Tatsumi let out a choked breath. "I don't care if I was a child. It doesn't matter! I know I could have saved them, Asato!" His eyes glittered with unshed tears. "Even if you deny my family, what about my friends, my comrades? They've died at my sides because of my weakness and stupidity too."

Tatsumi suddenly tried to pull away. Tsuzuki, too stunned to react, grabbed him closer. "No!" he cried without thinking. "Don't…don't stop. I want to hear everything, Seiichirou," he whispered faintly. He tried to find something else to say, but found himself floundering helplessly, tugging desperately at Tatsumi's arm.

"They say…everyone tells me it's not my fault…" Tatsumi stopped struggling, sinking into Tsuzuki's arms completely. His voice was a dull, scratchy whisper.

"It's…it's not…" Tsuzuki murmured as tenderly as he could.

"No…Asato…don't say that. I know that." A sort of painful weariness crept in Tatsumi's voice, and he was starting to feel heavy against Tsuzuki's slender frame.

"Then why…?" The question came out, unbidden, from Tsuzuki's mouth. "Why are you hurting so much, Seiichirou? Why are you crying out so hard that it was your fault?"

"Asato…" Tatsumi kissed him, sweet and soft. "I know…" He took a deep breath, his face a sickly, pale color. "I know that I have limits, that I…maybe I couldn't have saved them, if I tried." Another kiss, better than the first. Sighing, Tsuzuki slowly let himself relax, still confused but reassured.

"Asato…?" Tatsumi's hot whisper in his ear made Tsuzuki let out a soft, contented sound in lieu of a reply. "Even if I know it's not my fault…I want to believe it is. It hurts so much, Asato; you see how much it aches and pains me." He kept speaking, his voice strangely animated, so unlike his normally calm demeanor. "I suffer, day after day, for not saving them…for not forgiving myself…because I know that if I don't, an even worse pain awaits me." He crushed Tsuzuki, he was so close; his body was so heavy, his emotions so thick that Tsuzuki could hardly breathe. He kissed Tsuzuki again, leaving him pleasingly dizzy, airless and drowning in Tatsumi's darkest, deepest feelings.

"The thing that hurts me the most…" Tsuzuki's mind, still hazy from the sudden pleasure, couldn't respond quickly enough, and all he could do was freeze as he heard Tatsumi's voice finish with surprising clarity, "…is that I never died with them."

The momentary calm that swept over them shattered like glass.

Tsuzuki choked back a stunned sob. He could find neither the strength to strike Tatsumi for his stupidity nor the voice to cry out his objections.

"Why am I forced to keep watching the people I love get hurt…?" Tatsumi wondered aloud. He buried his face against Tsuzuki's chest. "I hate living in this world where I can't stop anything, can't do anything but watch. I'd rather die than watch you get hurt, Asato... But I can't find the will to wish for death anymore." Tatsumi sighed. "I can't find my apathy to life…because I couldn't stand to lose you." He planted a small kiss on Tsuzuki's cheek, murmuring to himself, "I never thought anyone else would ever make me feel like this. But I don't think I could live through losing my reason for living again." He sighed again. "Stay with me, Asato. Please, don't leave me..."

Tsuzuki was motionless as Tatsumi, exhausted from his grueling confession, fell into a sound deep, sleep. His eyes shimmered with pale tears. "Sei…" His voice broke as he tried to speak his love's name. He felt instinctively protective of Tatsumi in his vulnerable state, even as he felt every bit as vulnerable as Tatsumi, perhaps even more so. All his illusions of Tatsumi being so different from him, of Tatsumi showing him all the wonderful things he had missed, and how he should have been able to live…

All those dreams, and yet…he felt even happier to know that, deep down, Tatsumi was exactly like him, had endured the same pain, and was now experiencing the same newfound joy as he did.

* * *

The sun was warm, and bright. The morning had come all too soon.

Tsuzuki woke slowly, as he always did, a combination sweet dreams and peaceful relaxation making him loathe to rejoin the world. But a darker element had snuck into his peaceful rest, and he found himself torn between denying the world and denying the dreams.

A soft, pleasant sensation made him shiver. He didn't want to think, didn't want to dream, just to lose himself in that familiar, safe feeling…

He woke suddenly, a chill breeze washing over him, and the pleasing touch ended.

"I'm sorry, Asato."

Tatsumi's voice was rougher than usual. He seemed to be holding back some part of himself, keeping his voice even and emotionless, his touches quick and only necessary.

"I…I think I have frightened you needlessly." Tatsumi drew close, kissing Tsuzuki on the forehead, gently letting his fingers drift into the soft brown strands of hair. Tsuzuki lifted his hand up too touch Tatsumi's chest, but he couldn't make his eyes meet his.

Even his words were cold, Tsuzuki thought. He'd never realized, before…how icy Tatsumi was with him, always holding back, always putting him first. He'd never realized the depths of Tatsumi's emotions until he'd seen the fiery passion exposed mere hours before. "I…I never knew," Tsuzuki said finally. "You've…you've been hurting so much, Seiichirou, and yet you…you've done so much for me."

Tatsumi hesitated before putting an arm around Tsuzuki's back. Timid…that was the word…such an alien word, concerning Tatsumi. "Asato, you are the most innocent soul I've ever known. After…after all of this…you still think I'm nothing but a perfect knight, the hero of the story."

Tsuzuki's eyes finally met his, bright and so terribly beautiful. He swallowed hard. "That's all I ever knew of you." His usual humor was gone; he was sadder, meeker, just as he'd been when Tatsumi found him. His voice was sullen, though, as he continued, "Why should I change because of this? You…you never cared about it when I was hurt, so why should I?" Tatsumi stiffened, but Tsuzuki went on, "You were never scared of knowing that I hated myself. I wanted to die. I was just like you, and you think I'd be scared to be with you?"

The statement, dark and accusatory, sapped Tsuzuki's strength, and he sagged, suddenly, turning his face away. Tsuzuki hadn't meant to be so cross, but Tatsumi was…was being so stupid!

"I…" Tatsumi's voice was warm against Tsuzuki's ears, but still so distant. "No….Tsuzuki, I wasn't like you. Not at all."

Tsuzuki was instantly attentive. "What?" he whispered in surprise.

"If I'd been as strong as you, Asato, I wouldn't be here."

"Strong? Me?" Tsuzuki said, disbelieving. No, he was never…strong, not until Tatsumi…

"Your heart is so pure, so _strong_," Tatsumi repeated, emphasizing the word. "For me, just to exist took every ounce of strength I had. To even think of…just ending it all…was something I could never have done. I had no reason to live, and I was too weak to die. Asato, I wasn't…it's not like I was being noble by staying alive. I couldn't find the courage to do anything else."

Tatsumi shivered as he spoke, his voice still icy, but starting to pour out some of the fire he'd had before. "I was as good as dead. I had to find something, anything to keep myself from just collapsing. I couldn't die, and I couldn't live, Asato."

"But you could hurt," Tsuzuki whispered. "And the hurt…made it better, didn't it?" Tatsumi nodded, a small movement, but so heavy with meaning. "Because you…" His voice caught in his throat, but he forced the thoughts out anyway. "You had to…to do something to make up for what you did wrong. They'd never forgive you until you…until you were good again…" The world was spinning before Tsuzuki's eyes, a dull throb making him ache all over.

"Yes," Tatsumi breathed. "The only way to be forgiven…was never to forgive myself." His eyes closed, and he breathed out, long slow breaths. "How could you know that?" He didn't want to ask, didn't want to know the inevitable question, but he couldn't help himself.

"No matter what I did, they always hated me," Tsuzuki replied faintly. "Whether I was bad, or good, sad or happy. I just…gave up. I only wanted…"

Tatsumi finished the thought with chilling accuracy. "You only wanted to be loved."

"Yes."

"To be held and comforted…to let all your fears and joys out…"

Tsuzuki began to nod, feverishly, tremblingly. "Yes."

"Just…like this…"

"Yes…" Tsuzuki's answer twisted into a long, drawn-out moan. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt so much… But there were Tatsumi's long, gentle fingers, stroking his cheek, Tatsumi's arm holding him so tight and close, almost painful in their fumbling attempts to be as close as possible.

"Warm, and soft," Tatsumi murmured. "Sweet and kind and so perfect."

"Hurting…but so good," Tsuzuki added. "So strong…and so weak."

"I did mean what I said, Asato." Tatsumi's voice was steady again, gentle and understanding as the first time Tsuzuki had heard it. "I've changed since we met. I've lived with my grief, and my vengeance, all my life. Then I saw you, lying there, so beautiful and I…" A deep kiss interrupted his reminiscences, turning his head with the sheer feeling that filled him. He broke it off, gently. Smiling sheepishly, he finished, "I wanted you more than anything else in the world. You were everything I could have wanted, Asato, and you needed me as much as I wanted you."

Tsuzuki blinked up at him, so like he had in the past. "'Wanted me'?" he repeated, cocking his head to the side curiously. "You mean, you…you always knew you loved me, even then?"

"Ah…" Tatsumi hesitated, turning away only slightly. "Something like that, yes."

Tsuzuki looked at him for a long moment. His face lit up into a small, but somewhat unnerving, smile. "Really?" he asked innocently.

"Yes," Tatsumi replied, shifting a bit to hide his sudden burst of nerves.

Tsuzuki's gaze lingered a moment longer, before he happily threw his arms around Tatsumi's shoulders. "That's wonderful!" he almost yelled, so great was his enthusiasm. "You must have been so happy!"

"Yes," Tatsumi replied, a strange expression on his face. "Yes…I was very happy."

A dark look came over Tsuzuki's face. "Then why did you leave?"

"I didn't think you felt the same," Tatsumi replied evenly. He wasn't lying…but he wasn't telling the whole truth, either. It seemed so foolish now. "It hurt me to think that you might fall in love with someone else."

"Poor Seiichirou," Tsuzuki said, hugging him tightly. "I didn't know I hurt you."

"It's alright. We're together now, Asato." Tatsumi felt at peace, but there was still something that bothered him, in the back of his head. Tsuzuki had such pure, expressive eyes, and he decided to focus his attention there instead. They were such a lovely violet hue, a color no normal human ever had. Such…unearthly eyes, that drew you in like magnets. Almost like…

Tsuzuki chose that moment to turn his face towards the sun-lit window, and Tatsumi was never more thankful. He couldn't suppress that dark look that came over his face. That's right. He'd almost forgotten, for Tsuzuki was so…so innocent. So unlike him…

If he had chosen to love anyone else, he was sure he could never have forgotten, but Tsuzuki… Tsuzuki cast a spell over him, making all his terrible memories disappear. No, he wouldn't ruin this moment, this strange peace born out of pain and tears that had settled around them. But…

"Seiichirou! Asato!"

Ruriko was calling them, probably to the morning meal. He had to visit the Count today, explain what had happened in the last year. No, now was not the time. He had to put off this one, last secret, just for now…

Tsuzuki was virtually radiating happiness, muttering things about food under his breath. He looked ready to start floating into the kitchen; indeed, nothing could have stopped him, except that Tatsumi's arms were still wrapped tightly around his slender waist.

"We'll be okay." The moment froze. In an instant, Tsuzuki was calm, poised, serious…in the next, bouncing and innocent as a child.

"I think we will," Tatsumi said, his voice soft. Was it too much to hope for? And yet… "I know we'll be alright," he repeated, stronger.

"Seiichirou! Asato? Are you coming, or do I need to get you myself?" Ruriko called again, her voice teasing.

"That's enough, Seiichirou," Tsuzuki said, smiling. He kissed Tatsumi on the mouth affectionately, wrapping his arms around his love's neck. He pulled back, only enough to speak once more, soft enough that Tatsumi could only just hear it. "I live for you, and you live for me…and we'll both be able to live happily." Another long, purposely drawn-out kiss, and Tsuzuki pulled back to whisper, "If nothing else…you saved _me_, Seiichirou. You can't hurt me so easily, either."

Tatsumi's mind rallied against the thought. It was too much to hope for—Tsuzuki might be not realize it, but he could still be hurt. But his heart won out, finding solace in the knowledge that, yes, Tsuzuki was not as delicate as he seemed. If he ever lost control…no, he couldn't hurt Tsuzuki; not even Death had managed that feat. And even more comforting, Tsuzuki told the truth about one thing—he had saved him. Out of all the lives he knew had died at his hands, whether accidental or purposeful, he had saved the life that truly mattered, and in doing so had managed to save, too, the one life he never wanted to—his own.

"Asato," he breathed, using one arm to virtually crush their bodies together, the other to none-too-gently twist in Tsuzuki's hair as they kissed. He felt something being pulled from him, from deep inside his body, as Tsuzuki gently sucked at his lips. For a brief, agonizing instant, he felt…empty, cold, alone. And in the next, he felt as if whatever taken was returned, filling him with white hot heat, in every vein, every part of his body.

Tatsumi, in that moment of sweet sensation, felt…clean. Innocent. As if every guilt and pain had been cleansed from his very being.

As he stayed there, frozen, he felt Tsuzuki fall against him, as if his energy were gone. The thought, briefly, crossed his mind that Tsuzuki had done something, some magic to him, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. He knew, in his heart, not to question, not to ask, for he'd never receive an answer.

Besides, he found himself thinking, why should he ruin his first moment of true happiness?

* * *

* * *

That was…utterly exhausting. Did it make nay sense at all? I'm starting to think I need a beta reader to help out with these things.

Oh, yes, there is a next part, as you know. I'm hoping it will be out within the month, but I can't make any promises. Then there's a whole separate story arc I'm working out the kinks to. Tsk, if this part doesn't get me lynched for all the emotional pain I'm sadistically inflicting on Tatsumi and Tsuzuki, the next part will. I think I've left enough hints to suggest what I'm thinking, but…well, it's not too pleasant, just to warn you.

Thanks for all the great support and reviews, everyone!


	4. Part 4

Yami no Matsuei fairy tale, part 4

By Sakura no Miko

Summary: This is an insanely late chapter of an odd little idea that popped into my head. It's a continuation of my "Sleeping Beauty" with Yami no Matsuei characters. This is more of a transition/explanation chapter.

Disclaimer: Anyone who thinks I own Yami no Matsuei, or would make a profit off of it, needs to see a doctor. Quickly.

Warnings: This is the lead-in to the second story-arc of my dark fairy tale, following even more of Tsuzuki and Tatsumi's relationship. I was hoping this part would be less dark, but a few ideas crept in… Again, there's shounen ai/yaoi/'hot guys doing hot things to each other,' of the Tatsumi/Tsuzuki variety.

* * *

The dawn awoke to find a strange sight in the bustling land of Meifuu.

Two lovers—though they were wrapped so close you might mistake them for one—smiling and crying, whispering strange, soft words that even the winds dared not listen to.

But it was not hard to guess their feelings.

Whatever hardship they faced, they would now face together. And whenever one was hurt, the other was there to comfort. It was the ideal that every union wanted, but so few ever managed.

So, finally, after the long days of waiting and wanting, and the nights of pain and solace, the sun rises to gaze upon the peaceful morning.

* * *

The castle of Meifuu was a marvelous structure to behold in its prime. As it now stood, its glory was still slightly diminished in Tatsumi's eyes. It wasn't a physical flaw, but, rather, a flaw in his memories. Not a decade ago, the castle had been engulfed in flames, along with many of the nearby homes. So many people had lost their lives—friends, acquaintances, those he'd known from childhood.

The castle had been completely rebuilt, and the unknowing traveler would see nothing amiss. But, for so many years, Tatsumi had only seen the ruins in his mind's eye. It had fed his guilt so readily…but, today, as he gazed upon the pearly white stone, the towers touching the sky, and the jeweled doors beckoning all who had business to settle with the lone occupant of the massive structure, he thought he could see the castle's beauty again.

The Count of Meifuu, though he held the power and wealth of much of the land, rarely attended to business personally, thus creating many tasks for Tatsumi and his other workers to attend to. It was for good reason, though. The Count, while not of spirit blood—or so he claimed—was not of human blood, either. Even when Tatsumi had seen him, it had been in a darkened room, unusually devoid of the many candles that lit the castle constantly. A flash of white was all he could make out, and that was likely a mask.

He'd never wondered about the Count too much. It had been him who, upon learning of the demise of the Tatsumi family, had kept the wealth safe until Tatsumi was of age, and had provided for both mother and son throughout his childhood. When he asked that Tatsumi work for him, Tatsumi had accepted the offer gratefully, and had never regretted the choice.

But…what would the Count think when he learned that Tatsumi, very purposefully, had dallied in his task for the better part of a year? He had no idea why he'd been sent to find Tsuzuki, but there must have been a reason. It couldn't be as simple as finding the truth of the rumor; a simple messenger could have found that out.

He must have known…so why didn't he send somebody after them? Why were there no inquiries after them, no messages, no communication at all? Tatsumi winced. Well, he hadn't exactly been talkative, either. In fact, the longer they stayed, the less he wanted to leave.

Truth be told, he didn't especially want to be here now, either. He wanted to say it was for a good reason, but he knew, deep down, it wasn't. He just wanted to be with Tsuzuki. He had more than enough wealth to keep them well for the rest of their lives. Tatsumi paused. The rest of their lives…? It seemed like such a distant future, but…the thought made him happy. It gave him resolve, purpose.

Tatsumi took a deep breath. He leaned against an ornate wall, collecting himself. He couldn't report to the Count if he was all emotional like this. But…still, the thought remained in his head: what was going to happen when everyone found out that he and Tsuzuki were…well, in love? It was safe, when they were traveling on hidden roads, through dark forests and over empty plains. It was safe in a tiny village, unknown, not worth caring about. But here, in the open, there were so many reasons that would trouble them. Tsuzuki wouldn't understand, but he understood all too well.

He thought about it before, many times. Now, though…now that he loved Tsuzuki, there were so many more problems he needed to consider.

* * *

Tsuzuki, meanwhile, had nothing remotely unsettling on his mind. They'd only just met, but he was already convinced that he adored Tatsumi's mother. She was showing him how to make the sweet cakes he loved eating so he wouldn't have to buy them. He was trying to pay attention, he really was, but there were so many interesting things going on around them. He'd never seen many of the things in Ruriko's home, even though she assured him they were quite common.

He wasn't surprised at her inevitable questions: where was he from, what was his family like, how had he come to meet Tatsumi? Grinning brightly, he answered each in turn. He was from Chikyuu—why, yes, _that_ Chikyuu, the one that was abandoned all the years ago—but his family had died a long time ago and Tatsumi had found him. He didn't notice the questioning look on the old woman's face as he chattered on. He talked about the tower, his sleep, and the day he met Tatsumi—none of it, of course, making any sense to his attentive listener. She made a mental note to ask her son later.

But…then again, the aura she saw radiating from the boy's form, darkening with negative emotions, but always brightening at Tatsumi's name, explained things to her quite well.

He talked about Tenkuu as they waited for the cakes to bake. The people, the animals, the buildings—his detailed memories were better than any book or bard. Still, Ruriko couldn't help but feel the air of discontent in his words. There was something not right, something she couldn't quite place, but it was there, nonetheless. The strangest part of it was that Tsuzuki seemed to be completely oblivious to it.

But even so, she couldn't help but smile and laugh along with him.

* * *

Tatsumi sighed. He never relished returning to work after his journeys, and he suddenly remembered, with greater clarity than he'd ever known, exactly why.

Every time he returned, it was as if everyone felt some compulsion, some bizarre desire…

...to remind him of his own name.

It hurt to smile for so long, to answer every query politely, to try and resist the urge to turn around and try again another day, preferably one far away. Why hadn't he ever noticed before?

He almost chuckled at the thought, and, for a moment, his smile became genuine again. He'd never known anything different before. In his own way, he'd been locked away, in a tower built of rules and etiquette, duty and responsibility, apathy and solitude. But, unlike the stone that held down the halls he wandered through, his tower had only been giving the appearance of strength. How else, he mused, could it have been broken by a smile as easily as a child's castle of sand against the roaring waves?

'Tsuzuki…' Hadn't his mouth, only moment ago, ached with the weight of an insincere smile? He felt as if he could have grinned at Muraki himself the way he felt now.

In fact, Tatsumi was so lost in his longing, loving musing that several increasingly irate calls of his name went by without him so much as hearing their echoes.

"Seiichirou Tatsumi!" The gruff voice finally made it into his ears. He turned, his eyes lighting up faintly.

The owner of the voice was an old friend and superior, the only person he knew to have been in the Count's service longer than he. Konoe, affectionately called "Chief" by all the workers in the Count's employee, was a well-built and better-aged old gentleman. Like Tatsumi, he came from an old family, a noble house that had since fallen on hard times. Konoe was himself the last of his family still alive, and he was so immersed in his duties to the Count as to be called "married" to his work. Such a strange union, however, was rarely known to the men of Meifuu, and, with Tatsumi's attentions now most happily distracted, the honor belonged to Konoe alone.

"Chief," Tatsumi returned warmly. "I apologize. I was—"

"Thinking too hard, as always." Konoe finished sternly. His face took on a more pleasant expression. "How have you been, Tatsumi?" he asked warmly.

"Quite well. And you?"

"Fine." He looked at Tatsumi closely. "We were starting to get worried about you. You might have at least said hello before you ran off again."

Tatsumi shook his head. "I was barely able to leave even then," he replied coolly. Yes, he thought to himself, he couldn't pull himself away from Tsuzuki, not matter how much he'd tried. Even then, when he only had to take care of… Tatsumi smiled. There. That would work. "I couldn't leave my charge alone," he finished.

Konoe's eyes narrowed. "The Count has been waiting to hear about your…charge, for some time now."

"I know," Tatsumi said, nervousness starting to set in again. The Count had a sixth sense, a strange ability to sense things unspoken. He would know, probably before Tatsumi spoke a word, that his "charge" had become so much more.

"Tatsumi?"

"It's nothing. We shouldn't keep him waiting any longer."

* * *

The halls were without windows, lit by dozens of candles. They were tall, and short, nearly new and almost melted away, varying in color, scent, and style—as if they represented the differences of the entire world within the confines of the castle. Strangest of all, one occasion, a candle would flicker and die, as if hit by some wind or whisper, though no others near it were touched.

The Count's habits were disconcerting to many. Tatsumi, however, had become used to the strange circumstances of his employer. He entered the darkened room almost soundlessly, sensing a strange disquiet in the room he'd seen so many times.

He needed to be calm, collected. He wasn't in this for himself anymore. Tsuzuki's welfare would depend on his ability to act completely unchanged.

"It's been a while, Seiichirou," came the voice, seemingly from every direction. It was a powerful echo, born of the strange construction of the walls.

"Yes, Count, it has." He paused. Should he begin, or…?

"I must admit, I expected _you_," the voice emphasized, "of all people, to finish this errand in suitable time. Or did I neglect to tell you of its importance?"

"No, sir." Tatsumi bowed his head in deference. He felt strange. The Count was unusually serious. Had he…had he made a mistake in not bringing Tsuzuki back immediately?

"Then you must have had good reason to take so long."

Tatsumi looked up, startled, and was met by a long, echoing laugh. He let out his breath and shook his head. "I see your humor has not changed, Count." He looked around the room, his eyes slowly adjusting. He was still able to make out the familiar paintings, the lines of families and the…interesting portraits made of subjects who were blissfully unaware of their being watched. The Count was known for having particular interest in observing the more beautiful of his subjects while being himself unobserved. Or so said the more tactful of the rumors surrounding the mysterious man.

"I must admit I have a…personal interest in the young Prince Tsuzuki," the Count said as the laughter died down. He paused, before continuing slowly, "A very personal interest…"

Tatsumi fought the wave of intense jealousy that bit into him as he heard the subtle nuance of the statement. He was used to the possessiveness now, but it was still nearly overpowering. Perhaps, he thought to himself, he should start believing the rumors of the Count's "interests."

A single knock shattered the quiet, and Konoe entered, carrying a pile of books and scrolls. He caught Tatsumi's eyes and gave a wry smile. "Those twins were having a field day finding all these things—plus a few dozen others."

The library housed at Meifuu Castle were said to be the largest and most accurate in the lands. However, rather than being filled with simple tales meant to seduce the tarrying man from his labors, the books in Meifuu were strictly historical. Any man seeking his long-lost kin might come to the libraries of Meifuu and be satisfied—though often the man would end up with full knowledge of his neighbor's lives as well. The keepers of these treasures were a pair of oddities known as the Guoshoshin, twin brothers whose faces were rarely, if ever, seen without the presence of a hefty, dusty old volume of lore.

Konoe opened up the first of the scrolls, and Tatsumi caught a flash of brilliant color. An illustration?

Konoe presented the well-worn paper to the corner, and Tatsumi caught sight of a pale glove fingering the scroll lightly. "Yes, this is exactly the one." The Count sounded vaguely amused. The long fingers gestured in Tatsumi's direction. "Show him," the Count ordered.

Konoe pulled the brownish material back, presenting it plainly to his colleague. Tatsumi handled the picture gently, opening it fully, and stared.

Tsuzuki?

No, no, his mind countered quickly. She…_she_…was not Tsuzuki, but…

What trick was this?

Upon the well-aged paper was a brilliant drawing, sketched lovingly in vivid color. His violet eyes, his shimmering brown hair, his pale, flawless skin—she looked exactly like him! Were Tsuzuki a woman, he certainly would have been the creature staring up at him from the scroll. Her eyes…sadder, yes, but still so alike. Her clothes were certainly satin or silk, bejeweled and delicately threaded. Around her neck she wore a trinket of deep red and green jewel, crafted to mimic a flower and leaf, the sign of the fairy-folk.

But the strangest aspects of the woman were her companions. Upon the tall back of her throne sat a most beautiful red-plumed bird. At her feet, curled as if sleeping, lay a black-eyed white cat, the like of which Tatsumi had never seen. Its coat was streaked with black, like the "tygers" of the farthest east, but…never had Tatsumi seen anything like it. And in her hand she held a strange scepter, around which coiled the likeness of a serpent.

"What is this?" he whispered, hardly trusting himself to speak.

"Ruka," came the reply, from the farthest reach of the room. "Queen Ruka, the first ruler of Chikyuu…the woman whose line bore Prince Tsuzuki." There was a sound of creaking, as if a chair were being moved, and light footsteps. "The Tsuzuki family has always been…gifted." The Count took an audible breath. "By the time the young prince was born, it was all but forgotten that certain members of the line still possessed these gifts."

"Spirit powers, you mean?" Tatsumi said, surprised. Such abilities were rare, yes, but certainly not warranting such hushed breaths and secrecy. Nearly half the people under the Count's employ possessed such abilities. "Surely you can't want him to join us?"

"Spirit powers?"

Tatsumi rarely heard such a degree of emotion in the Count's voice. He blinked. "That is what this is about, is it not? His spirit abilities, those that allowed him to live through all the years unchanged?" But even as the words left his lips, he regretted them. Something didn't feel right, something hadn't felt right since he stepped into the room. He hoped to every god he knew that he hadn't endangered Tsuzuki by mentioning his spirit abilities. Unconsciously, the shadows in the room seemed to stand at attention, no longer flickering from the little light that shone into the room.

A sudden peal of laughter rang out. "Calm yourself, Seiichirou," the Count said gently, calmly. With the slightest swish of a gloved hand—the one visible, at least—the shadows returned to their childish games, jumping and moving as if being blown in an invisible, unfelt wind. "I did not expect that young Prince to have inherited spirit powers," the man mused. He sighed. "But it is just as well. Tsuzuki is the last of that particular line, and if the gift has passed him over, it is likely lost forever." The Count sank back into his chair, disappearing fully from Tatsumi's view. "What manner of abilities have the spirit folk granted him?"

"He—" Tatsumi began to speak, but his voice deserted him. A strange sort of understanding was dawning on him. He...he'd never withheld information from the Count before, but now… He felt, somehow, as if he were betraying Tsuzuki, or endangering him.

"I have no plans to invite him to my service," the Count said coolly, as if he could sense Tatsumi's thoughts. "And you know, surely, that there are others I might ask the same question?"

Was that a threat? Tatsumi wondered. There was no malice in his voice, and yet… He took a deep breath. The Count could be trusted, he told himself. He was being foolish. "He's a healer," Tatsumi whispered, his voice strangely cold. "His wounds disappear almost instantly."

"Can he heal others?"

"No. Not that I've witnessed."

"Is that all?"

Tatsumi almost bristled. No, he wanted to say, no that's not all. Tsuzuki is so gentle, and learns so quickly, and he's so beautiful and… "Yes," he forced himself to say. "Yes, those are his only abilities."

"And his manner?" Tatsumi heard the ghost of curiosity in the Count's voice. "How has he adjusted to life in this era?"

"He learns quickly," Tatsumi replied, his thoughts rushing.

"It's been nearly a century since…" The Count drifted off. Suddenly, with a hint of something in his voice that Tatsumi would almost call perversion, he finished, "Though he does look quite good for his age." He chuckled at his own remark. Tatsumi was caught between sighing and lunging for his employer's throat. But he'd heard such comments before. "Indeed, isn't it hard, Seiichirou, to believe that the prince is your senior—and yours as well, Konoe—by several decades?"

Tatsumi closed his eyes, trying to envision the world Tsuzuki was born into. His wide-eyed innocence, his curiosity, his amazement at everything—it all made sense. Tatsumi almost smiled, a flood of memories of Tsuzuki's explorations blossoming in his head.

Then he blinked. How…How exactly did the Count know what Tsuzuki looked like? He arched a delicate eyebrow and cast a questioning gaze in the Count's direction.

"Where is Prince Tsuzuki now?" The Count's voice rang out.

"With Moth—with Ruriko," Tatsumi replied, trying not to let his suspicions color his voice. "At her home."

"Keep him there for now. It will take several days to inform his family of his return. But after a year, certainly a few more days will not bother you?"

"What?" Tatsumi's mouth went dry.

"As I told you," the Count said, sounding slightly miffed, "I have no wish to keep Tsuzuki in my employ. If it had been my decision, I would have left Tsuzuki there. I only agreed to undertake the mission on the request of the regent of Gonrakuu. He asked me to find him as a…personal favor."

"Why?"

"The Gonrakuu royal house is also of the Tsuzuki family," the Count replied sharply. "They will be overjoyed to finally hear of his safe return."

"You…you knew? You knew he was up there and you didn't do anything? And they…this family of his…they knew as well?" Tatsumi's voice had become very calm, very cold. It wouldn't have taken a fool to tell he was furious, and growing more angry by the moment.

"Tatsumi," Konoe whispered, making a move to touch the younger man's arm. Tatsumi pulled away, inching closer to the unseen body, the voice he'd followed thoughtlessly for years.

"Calm yourself, Seiichirou." The Count's voice commanded, without a hint of request. "Yes, I knew. I knew of his existence far before you and your father were born into this world. I knew of the rogue Shinigami guarding his sleep. I knew that it was _Muraki_—" his voice reflected his disgust as the name fell from his lips, "—who set the spell upon him. But what was there to be done? Even if we could have woken him, what would we have done with him? You, better than I, should realize that Tsuzuki was safer where he was." There was a pause. "He wasn't in any condition to be moved, Seiichirou. I didn't give you the task of finding him lightly. You were—you are—the only person I could have trusted enough to take care of him."

The anger in Tatsumi's veins disappeared. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He took a breath. Not for the first time, he felt the undeniable pull of his emotions, bottled up for so long that, on the rare occasion they won free, overwhelmed him. They frightened him, these strange feelings. Ruriko had taught him to control himself, to keep the undeniable reactions deep inside. But…it seemed, despite his best efforts, that they would remain buried no longer.

"Now," the Count began again, as if the outburst were already forgotten, "tell me, Seiichirou…about your encounter with Muraki."

* * *

Tsuzuki's stomach growled as the wonderful scent of cake assaulted his senses. Ruriko was a wonderful teacher. She was showing him how to decorate the cakes with icing. He watched her delicately drizzle the various colors in delicate patterns—flowers, clouds, rainbows.

What was Tatsumi doing right now? he wondered idly.

Ruriko suddenly pressed a small tube of the icing into his hands, urging him to try a design. Their first cakes were a tad flat, so they'd been commandeered for decoration practice.

"What does Seiichirou like?" he wondered aloud as he tried to think of what to try. He'd never…never really paid attention, he realized. Tatsumi was always asking what he liked, what he wanted to do, never saying anything about his own wants. So selfish…

Ruriko inclined her head thoughtfully. "Ah, Seiichirou never tells you what he wants. He's always so selfless." She leaned closer. "But I'll tell you a secret. Seiichirou really loves raspberries." She smiled and giggled, so girlish for a woman of her age. "And," she whispered, so soft Tsuzuki almost couldn't hear, "I'm sure he'll love anything you give him."

Tsuzuki smiled. The icing Ruriko had given him was red, so he began to craft something that was, unfortunately, not altogether like a raspberry.

"Don't worry so much," Ruriko admonished. "It looks wonderful."

Tsuzuki couldn't help but stare at the older woman, her dull, unseeing eyes. "Aren't you sad?" he whispered finally. "That you can't…can't see Sei anymore?"

"No." Her reply was so simple, so quick. "Seiichirou…he doesn't agree with me, but being blind isn't really so bad. I still have my other sight, my true Sight. I can still see my little Sei. I can see you. I can see how happy you make him." Her eyes sparkled, the way only an old woman's eyes could. "What else do I need?"

Tsuzuki wanted to reply. Nothing. The way she made it sound…absolutely nothing.

"Now, don't look like that," she whispered, affectionately touching her hand to his cheek. She shook her head, taking a deep breath. "Even…even when it did hurt me, when I did want it to be different…I couldn't…I wouldn't have told him. If he knew, even for a moment, that I was unhappy, he'd never forgive himself."

Tsuzuki nodded, very slowly. "I know," he said heavily. "You're so strong," he whispered back to her. "I…I wonder if my mother was like you. I know Sei must have been so happy when he came here."

"You could say that," Ruriko said, her voice pleasant again. She stepped lightly to the oven, checking the baking sweets. "A little longer," she announced.

"What was he like?" Tsuzuki's curiosity was still with him, even if it had, temporarily, been overtaken by his concern for Ruriko. "I mean, when he was a kid? Was he…different?"

Ruriko shrugged. "About as different as any child is from an adult. He was still mature, and protective, and completely focused on whatever he was doing. But he was…" A strange expression flitted across her wrinkled face. "He had trouble talking to people, even me. He was always so serious, like the world depended on him." Something like realization dawned. "He…he almost never was a child, not that I saw. He never cried, never asked for anything, never…never needed anyone to help him. He'd always just look at me, holding back his tears, trying to pretend nothing was wrong."

Tsuzuki's breaths stopped. He knew what she meant, could see it perfectly. Better than perfectly, really, because the image in his head…flickered. The handsome, confident man he knew, and a small, dark-haired boy…their expression exactly the same…

"You're smiling," Ruriko said softly. "I haven't seen you so bright since Seiichirou left, Tsuzuki."

For the second time, Tsuzuki found himself wordless, barely able to nod. When was Tatsumi coming back? What was he doing? Would…would he like them, these half-formed, clumsy little cakes? Would….would he want…

"You don't need such bad thoughts." Ruriko interrupted his twisting, expanding questions. "The only darkness that suits you is shadow."

* * *

The day grew dark, and Tatsumi found himself quickening his pace. His head ached with the strange tidings he had learned, and he resolved not to think about them until he was safe at home….safe with Tsuzuki.

Why was it suddenly so hard to keep his feelings inside?

Why did it hurt so much to return to the life he'd left? It was as if he'd been gone for a lifetime, an old man forgetful of his boyhood days.

And why…why did it make him so scared to think about his old life?

His fists clenched. It must have been the conversation, he told himself. It must have been because of him. Muraki…

The Count had explained, in far too much detail, how the mad doctor—the man he'd hated so long and so much—had cursed Tsuzuki. Had driven him into madness. Had forced him, seduced him to…

Tatsumi wanted to scream. By the gods, how could he have ever…

Muraki had still been human, then, the Count went on. He'd only begun his descent into the dark arts. Not a week after the celebration, a fellowship of the greatest and wisest men of the lands had caught Muraki. Surrounded him.

They tortured him. For every life, every crime, every lost soul…

But they could not kill him.

Not when he…

"Seiichirou!"

Tsuzuki's voice was so beautiful. All of Tsuzuki was beautiful, especially when he jumped head-first into Tatsumi's waiting arms. A beautiful…weakness…warm and soft and so very alive.

"Mmm, Asato." A sweet fragrance wafted up, making him feel strangely light-headed. He buried his face against Tsuzuki's neck, inhaling the warm perfume that adorned the expanse of soft skin. He recognized it, suddenly, as the rare, expensive scent Ruriko wore on special occasions, the scent he'd come to associate with affection and happiness. But…ah, on Tsuzuki, it was so much more intoxicating.

He wondered, fleetingly, if he might taste as delicious, too.

* * *

Tsuzuki was happy beyond words as Tatsumi's arms came around him. When Ruriko had given him the sweet-scented oil, he hadn't been sure what to do with it, exactly. But he recognized it. He wasn't quite sure how, but he just knew the beautiful scent as raspberry, Tatsumi's favorite. It…it wasn't quite like the sickly-sweet vanilla they'd used while cooking, nor was it quite as subtle as the white blossoms he'd known as a child. But, he reasoned, it was better that way. It was something only for Tatsumi…only for them.

He shivered at his love's touch, the face buried in the crook of his neck, and let out a soft laugh. "Sei…you're finally home."

"I wasn't gone that long."

"I know. But…" Tatsumi was so quiet. "Did…did something bad happen?" Tsuzuki whispered, his eyes suddenly fixed right into Tatsumi's.

"No," Tatsumi said quickly. He smiled, a little. "Something good happened. Different…but good."

"What?"

"I'm taking you back to your family."

"My family? But…" Tsuzuki drifted off, mid-sentence. He shook his head, taking a step back. "What family?"

"I don't know." No point in lying, Tatsumi thought. "But they've been waiting for you for a long time."

Tsuzuki opened his mouth, letting out the softest "Oh," before his voice left him.

They lapsed into silence.

Tatsumi fidgeted—if such a thing is possible—and looked around, suddenly noticing how late it was. "Asato? Would you like to watch the sunset?"

Tsuzuki nodded, a little too quickly. "Um…I…we made some cakes," he murmured, looking away. "Me and Ruriko, I mean. If you want any."

Tsuzuki's embarrassment brought a bit of warmth to Tatsumi's cheeks. He almost blushed, but voiced his thoughts all the same: "What could be more wonderful, Asato, than watching the sunset with you, eating the food my two dearest loves made for me?"

Tsuzuki smiled, so like the sun peeking out from the clouds. But deep down, Tatsumi knew that the thought was every bit as comforting to him as it was to Tsuzuki. So maybe he could forgive himself for saying something so…foolish.

He ached, his thoughts rampant, even when he was so close to happiness. Nothing came without its troubles, did it? Even something as wonderful as this tiny, budding love, was met with the first chills of winter.

Even if they were in love…they could lose each other. Their love wouldn't end the pain, the memories, the future so full of troubles…and yet…

…and yet…

The two men settled down on the soft grass that surrounded Tatsumi's home. Tsuzuki threw his arms around the older man, nuzzling his neck, all questions left unspoken. One of them shivered, and they instinctively moved closer. The doubts didn't disappear from Tatsumi's mind, not even in that sublime moment.

They were both terrified, he realized. So many things could happen, so many things they couldn't stop, couldn't change, couldn't imagine. Even being together didn't stop them from thinking. They weren't fools, imagining that love would solve everything.

But…it was a start, wasn't it?

"I love you," he whispered, a prayer, a promise.

"I love you too," Tsuzuki whispered back, a gentle, joking smile on his face. But it made his own declaration no less sincere. He only meant, Tatsumi understood, that now he truly understood what he was saying with those words.

It was enough, for now. Now was all that mattered.

The sky was beautiful, a rainbow without a storm, beauty without contrast. Red like life-blood, flowing through the sky's veins, wrapped in a cloak of silvery cloud as the great, fiery eye slowly went to slumber. It turned away from them, leaving the darkness to trail after.

He kissed Tsuzuki, there in the grass, under the dying day. So sweet…

"Asato," he whispered, but Tsuzuki didn't listen. He cupped Tatsumi's face, gentle and full of promises. Unbearably familiar…

He remembered. In the hazy, almost drunken bliss they shared, he suddenly remembered what he'd needed to say.

"Asato," he said again, his voice louder—or so he thought. "Promise…promise me…please…"

"Anything," his lover whispered, his eyes glassy, his lips parted in a warm smile.

"Look at me," Tatsumi murmured, waiting for some sign that Tsuzuki was truly listening. "Listen to me." When he was finally sure of Tsuzuki's full attention—though his own was hard to keep with Tsuzuki's hand caressing his shoulder like that—he forced the words from his mouth. "Don't…promise me you won't…won't ever hate." He drew in a breath. The words felt so heavy. "Don't ever hate anyone, Asato, no matter what happens…or what they do to you…"

"What?" That was the last thing Tsuzuki had expected. "I prom—"

"Not yet," Tatsumi said quickly, tipping his finger to Tsuzuki's lips. "Not unless you mean it." He chuckled, so softly. "You don't even know what hate is, Asato. I don't want you to."

"But you do," Tsuzuki replied, his eyes suddenly very focused. "Or you wouldn't tell me this."

"I do…I did. I don't ever want to again."

"Why?"

"He betrayed me. He took Mother's…took away her eyes," Tatsumi whispered fiercely. "And I….I feel…I feel so sorry for him! I can't hate him, I can't, I…I can't feel anything but pity for him!" Tears stung at his eyes, not enough to fall, but still there. "It hurts, Asato, to think that I can't…ever hate him again…" Oh, gods, how they stung at his eyes, 'til he couldn't see Tsuzuki's gorgeous face…

Tsuzuki just looked at him, not smiling, but not frowning. "I can't promise, then."

Tatsumi took a soft, shuddering breath. "What?"

"If…if that's hate…" Tsuzuki shook his head. "I can't promise…because I already…hate." His voice was…strange. Or was it just Tatsumi's own disheveled state that made him see and hear Tsuzuki so differently? "Even when they're long gone, I hate them. I hated their eyes, and their words, and their hands. I hate their memories."

He almost hissed, so unlike himself that Tatsumi instinctively shuddered. It…it couldn't be Tsuzuki, not his Tsuzuki, could it? This black, cold figure chillingly close to him? "Asato…no…you don't mean that," he said, disbelieving. "I don't believe you."

"Don't you?" Tsuzuki stared at him, so _cold_, for a moment. His entire body convulsed. "Sei!" he cried out, shaking, shuddering, shivering. "No, no I don't. I don't hate them, not at all!"

"Asato?"

He was still shaking, though less than before. Tsuzuki's hand rubbed gently at his throat, confusion in his eyes. "I didn't mean it," he whispered finally. "I don't hate them." He looked shaken…scared?

They lapsed into silence—such a cold, distant silence.

He was asking too much, wasn't he? Tatsumi tried to calm his heart. He hated Muraki, no matter how much pity he felt. And Tsuzuki hated his family, no matter how many years went by.

And yet…

"We'll just have to learn to stop hating, then."

Tsuzuki looked up, his eyes red. What was it, he wondered fleetingly, that drove these emotions out of him?

"We'll have to…forgive…"

Why did Tatsumi's voice make him feel as if every guilt, every blackness, every evil could be exposed, erased…?

"Won't we?"

Tsuzuki nodded mutely, but didn't say anything. He longed to voice the strange feeling welling up in him…that he hadn't, couldn't have said those words. But he did. As if…something else within him was speaking.

Tatsumi pulled Tsuzuki into an awkward embrace. He felt so…empty. As if the hatred had eaten him from within, leaving nothing but a gaping hole that nothing, _nothing_ could fill. He pulled Tsuzuki close to him, painfully close. But even the warmth and softness of his love couldn't fill the ache he felt.

"I…I knew him," Tatsumi said, his breaths slow and deep. He swallowed. "Muraki. Doctor Kazutaka Muraki." Another pause. "I was young. I was sick…I wanted to die. I used to think it…it was my punishment."

Tsuzuki ached, physically and mentally. The more he learned about Tatsumi, the more he hurt inside. All his pain felt so small, compared to Tatsumi's. But it made him hurt more, not less. Why…?

"Mother cried so much, when she thought I couldn't see. But I couldn't….stop feeling the guilt." Tatsumi smiled, faintly. "It hurt so much I can't…I can't even remember it well. It's all blurry, and numb." He shook his head. "I know you won't understand…but…even Mother…I never could tell her…"

He laid his head on Tsuzuki's shoulder. Everything felt so...numb. The emotions were there, he could feel them…but he couldn't reach them. It was so simple to find happiness—in a kiss, an embrace, a look. But to find grief…anger…lo…

"I don't think any man ever lived more evil than Muraki, or more gifted. He could heal anyone of anything, if you paid the price. And my price…was Mother's eyes…and the destruction of the city." It was just like telling a story, a fairy tale. "No one ever realized he came because of me. Not even when they thanked me for helping extinguish the fires, for saving as many as I could…and begging forgiveness for those I couldn't. Would they have looked at me the same, if they knew?"

Tatsumi laughed, gently, quietly. "I told you before…I know my limits. I know that I couldn't have changed any of it from happening. But I did something unforgivable. And I paid…so much for it. I…"

He fell quiet, his breaths slow and steady. Tsuzuki held him tightly, his mouth dry. Tatsumi was so strong, he thought absently. Almost too strong. But, like this, he seemed so scared, so weak. He went from on extreme to the other without looking back. "I can't keep up," Tsuzuki murmured.

"What?"

"You're so much…more…than me." Tsuzuki sighed, gently. He wouldn't look up. "I can't understand how you could go through so much and still be so strong."

Tatsumi laughed, a warm, real laugh. "I can't understand you, either. I think you've been through so much more than I have…" He shook his head. "So innocent. You don't even care what I've done." His voice caught in his throat. "Don't you ever wonder, Asato, if I would hurt you someday? Aren't you afraid of the secrets I'm keeping?"

"…are you afraid of mine?"

Tatsumi paused for along moment. "…perhaps," he said finally. "But you wouldn't be the first person to hurt me."

"Me too." Tsuzuki kissed the taller man affectionately. "Tell me the rest. I want to know everything."

"How do you know there is anything else to tell?" Tatsumi's humor was gentle, but failed to hide the way he stiffened in Tsuzuki's arms.

"You don't want to hate him. Why?"

Tatsumi almost laughed again. Tsuzuki…so innocent, but so astute. He always knew, somehow, the exact thing to say, to ask.

"I stopped breathing." Oh, it was hard not to remember. The deathly cold, the darkness swallowing him up—and not caring at all. "And he…saved me. He brought me back, kept the air in my lungs until I woke up."

"So that's it." Tsuzuki smiled at him. "It must have been horrible! The man you owed your life to…"

"Yes… It was."

"My poor Sei…" Tsuzuki's arms encircled him. "I'll never hate anyone, I promise!" he whispered fiercely. "I can't bear to see you hurting so much."

"I know." The night was getting much too dark, even with the stars shining brilliantly in the sky. "Let's get to sleep."

"Mmm-hmm," Tsuzuki agreed.

* * *

_There he was…that beautiful boy._

_The ever-sleeping prince…_

_Tatsumi sucked in a breath. That dark silk hair. The sweet-red lips. That pale skin._

_But still he slept, heedless of the admiring glances._

_'Wake him up.'_

_His chest, so still and lifeless, begging to taste the sweet breath of life.__ So sweet…_

_'Let him taste.'_

_Lips on lips—but not like that.__ Gentle, and innocent, sharing life. Pushing the fluid air between parted lips, into too-still lungs, through an ever-cold body. _

_"Please…wake up…"_

_The boy's eyes opened._

_No…_

_No…!_

_Blue eyes.__ Brown hair. _

_His own__ youthful face stared back at him, dark, accusing._

_His hands…to pale, too fine.__ Silver in his eyes, blinding him._

_His face lit up before him, as if within a mirror. But he was not himself anymore. _

_Muraki__…_

_Fire everywhere.__ Stop the screams…stop the heat…stop it stop it stop it!_

_"I hate you!" whispered, screamed, echoing and vibrating from every direction. "I hate you!"_

_And gone, falling…falling…darkness and pain and helplessness. Can't move. Can't think. Can't breath. Have to breathe. Have to. Please…_

_"I hate you!" the only sound allowed to escape. _

_Breathe. Please…please…_

_Ah…_

_A gentle, tender sigh, as warm, soft lips capture his. The warm, hot breaths flowing into his mouth, swallowed and choked back up, restoring life and limb and so wonderful…_

_Savior…who are you?_

_Drowning, but so different.__ Drowning in white, in soft silk and warm flesh and soft breaths. Playfully sharing life. So different than before…_

_"No one ever touched me like this…" whispered in shock._

_"No one ever wanted me…"_

_"And I have never wanted anyone…"_

_Everything he could want…everything he begged for…from the arms of his savior, his white-clad angel, inhuman and beautiful and…_

_He spoke. Mocking, cold…with honey-sweetened bitterness._

_'Was this what the prince saw…what he felt…as he awoke in your arms?'_

_'I knew he'd stir your coldest of hearts…'_

_'After all…he was just like you, back then…'_

_'And you are…'_

_Don't say it!_

_"I hate you…so much…you monster."_

_Suddenly, Tsuzuki, in his arms, whispering gently, "I love you…" Innocent eyes. "Don't you love me, too?"_

_"…I…don't know…" _

_"…but I love you!" His eyes turned dark, accusing. "How could you not love me back?" The tears in his eyes… "I hate you! You've betrayed me, Tatsumi!"_

_…no…don't say that…_

_"Stop it! How dare you use him…his voice, his form…!" But it was useless to scream here … "I hate you!" he cried again, drawing a strange satisfaction._

_But I have become you, his mind whispered treacherously._

_"I hate you…I have always hated you…"_

_Laughter.__ Gentleness fading away. _

_"Let me go!"_

_But every struggle made it worse. White everywhere, burning his eyes like fire. Those tender touches everywhere, pleasure that made him ache with pain. _

_'Only if you tell me the truth.'_

_"No…" A sick moan escaping his lips. "I hate you!"_

_'Liar.'_

_He could see him, in startling detail. The flawless hands, with fine nails. The soft material of his long coat. Eyes…nose…cheeks…mouth…_

_'The truth will set you free…'_

_"I loathe you. I hate you. I wish I could have killed you!"_

_But his own self…he could barely see himself. His own body, his own color, his own mind…fading into white blankness…oneness…_

_There was no Seiichirou Tatsumi…no Muraki…_

_…just…_

_Insistent kisses, gentle and forceful.__ He couldn't help it…he'd never felt…so strange…_

_"You…tricked me…"_

_The words were catching in his throat. His breaths…so short…_

_His lips were caught in a terrible kiss, leaving him choking, gasping. Anything…gods, anything…have to breathe…have to be alive…anything!_

_"I…" Breaking away, just an instant of freedom so dear…_

_"I…loved you…"_

_"I loved you!" he screamed with his first free breath._

_"I…"_

_"I…loved you…so much…Doctor."_

_Those eyes, blood-red…that warm, gentle smile…_

_…sneering…with contempt…_

_'And I never cared about you.'_

_'Fool.'_

_'As if anyone could love you…'_

_'…worthless…helpless…filthy…'_

_The tears stung his eyes…just like before…_

_"But I love you…" …broken whispers… _

_'I don't care.'_

* * *

Hot, wet sobs, made Tatsumi's vision blur, his mind spinning and nauseous. He drew a hand to his face, torn between wanting to hold his mouth shut or trying to force out the disgusting feeling welling up from his stomach.

Lies. Even his dreams betrayed him. Everyone…betrayed him…

He'd betrayed himself.

What could he do but admit it, this black and horrible feeling within him? He'd…_loved_…that monster! With…all his heart, he'd…

A soft stirring next to him caught his attention. Tsuzuki…

He looked so beautiful, sleeping soundly. His pale skin beneath the blankets, his lips parted to let gentle breaths out, his face lit with an innocent, pure smile. Just a touch would wake him up, warm and alive, to comfort Tatsumi's darkened mind with words of love and tenderness.

Was this how Muraki had seen him…?

The warm arms embraced him before he could react, pulling him close to his love's sleeping form, as though to chastise him for even thinking of leaving. Tatsumi sank back down, laying his head on the pillow, a sudden weariness overtaking him.

Tatsumi shut his eyes, letting his thoughts drift aimlessly. He felt…safe…with Tsuzuki next to him. As if his past couldn't touch him, couldn't hurt him at all.

Thank the gods Tsuzuki still slept… He didn't want to explain, not this.

"He wasn't all evil. Today I finally understood that." He whispered the words without realizing it. "I don't want to hate him…but…"

The words the Guoshoshin told him floated back. He'd been the best doctor in the lands. He only wanted to save people from death. The darkness…wasn't his fault. He only wanted to help, so badly…enough to throw everything away…

The slow descent into madness and vengeance against a world where life was as fragile as a thread…

They'd tortured him, back in the days Tsuzuki knew, for his crimes innumerable. And in his last moment, mad with anguish, he had been saved from death, saved by the only person who could still see him as anything but a monster.

Muraki's dearest friend had killed himself to save his only love from death, sacrificing his body with black magic and blood, damning himself forever to the afterlife—with no chance of being brought back. And so had Muraki gained a second chance at life…with nothing holding back his madness.

"How could anyone love Muraki?" Konoe had asked, his voice thick with disgust.

Tatsumi almost collapsed, almost screamed right there.

"You have no right to judge, Konoe," the Count replied. "No one does, unless they have been through the same…pain." He seemed to stare past the older man, his gaze uncomfortably close to where Tatsumi stood.

Tatsumi wanted to forgive him, but…

…no matter what he told himself, he knew he'd never forgive himself, either.

Tatsumi would have cried again…cried for his pain, for Muraki's pain, for all the selfish and terrible things and…

But Tsuzuki curled close to him, his breaths soft, and gentle. "Sei…" he said in his sleep. "…love you, Sei…"

How could he say that, right when Tatsumi needed to hear it the most? Tatsumi started to move, to wonder, to…

But he stopped. Instead, he let himself lie there, chasing the black thoughts from his head. For a moment, it worked. "I love you, too, Asato," he whispered.

And it was true.

* * *

Author's Note: Please don't kill me…

I know I'm….very late…and I know I just wrote the most horrifying piece of writing ever…but remember, you need me alive to attempt to work on the next story arc!

Yes, I do know what it will be, and since summer's coming up, I should be able to finish it quickly enough. But until then, mull over the horrifying discoveries of Tsuzuki and Muraki's past and all the nice foreshadowing about Tsuzuki's family.


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